A Dream Life
by TheREALCarbyLove
Summary: CHAPTER 16 It's a Carby. Mostly fluffy fuzz, with a healthy dose of drama to keep things interesting ... so if you like that kind of thing, this fic's for you.
1. Homecoming

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea (CarbyLove@aol.com)

Rating: PG-13 … at least for now 

Summary: Can I get back to you on that? The life and times of Carby, I guess. What exactly that will be remains to be seen. Probably your general fluffy fuzz, with a good dose of drama thrown in now and then to mix it up. 

Author's Note: So … yeah, I'm sure exactly how far I'll end up going with this fic, but it has the potential to be a long one. I've got lots of ideas, it's just a case of implementing them. Which is generally easier said than done. But since I've not yet finished the next chapter of "This Thing About Birthdays," consider this a consolation prize. Maybe it'll keep some people happy until I can finish chapter 6. Maybe not. Oh well, too bad. 

Disclaimer: Same old, same old. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Dream Life 

Chapter 1: Homecoming

The cab rumbles over familiar streets, and I find myself almost giddy with the prospect of being home. It's only been two weeks since the last time I saw her, but it feels like a lifetime. I remember when I first broached the subject of going on another medical missionary undertaking. She hadn't exactly taken to the idea. After all, it would be the first time we'd been apart since we'd gotten married. 

__

"Well if being apart is what's bothering you, why don't you come with me?" I'd asked.

"To Guatemala?"

"Sure, why not?" 

"Why would I want to do that? What the hell is in Guatemala?" 

"Sick people, Abby. People too poor to see a doctor. Mothers and children, old people, newborn babies … and all of them need the kind of help that we could give them." 

She'd regarded me carefully at that point, not saying yes, but certainly not saying no. It had taken more than a little prodding, along with some careful reminders about how it was time to get on with things, but eventually I convinced her that maybe this was just the type of drama that she did need in her life. Maybe seeing the struggles of the indigent and illiterate of a third-world country would do her some good -- put her own problems in perspective. Which is what she said to me when she finally agreed to come along. 

And so we'd set out on this adventure together. We'd planned and packed carefully. We'd gotten books and tapes of Berlitz Spanish and quizzed each other incessantly, trying to at least gain a working knowledge of Spanish before our trip. We'd swiped supplies from the closets of County together, sneaking them out under our coats and packing them in a huge suitcase. We'd laid awake at night, side by side, wondering aloud what we would find when we got there, what this adventure held in store for us. And more and more we got excited at the prospect of not only taking this journey, but of taking it together. I was more than a little enchanted with the romantic aspect of it all. A missionary doctor and his loyal wife, the nurse, bringing medical care to those who need it most. Abby and John Carter saving the world. Or something like that anyway. I could just see us working side by side to miraculously cure patients of dreaded diseases. She'd be my right-hand 'man' and it would be great working with her by my side and anticipating my needs without a word uttered between us. 

What I hadn't counted on was what happened once we got there. As soon as it was discovered that Abby was not only a trauma nurse, but an experienced OB nurse as well, she was quickly catapulted to practically a God-like status. Seems the dozen or so villages that we were going to be responsible for were experiencing something of a baby boom, and the women were desperately in need of medical care during childbirth. Being an ER doc, I've delivered my share of babies and could certainly contribute my experience, but there was once hitch. In these villages made up of the native people where things have remained in large part staunchly traditional, childbirth is women's business. While a male medicine man from within the village might attend a birth, the other men of the village, and white, foreign, male doctors aren't exactly welcomed. 

But Abby with her OB background and med school training was the perfect pseudo-midwife candidate. And she more than lived up to the role. She gloried in it. Within a half an hour of reporting into the program's headquarters, Abby was whisked away to attend to a birth in a nearby village where she safely saw a big, strapping, healthy baby boy into the world. He was the first, but it certainly wouldn't be the last. In the two weeks she was there, she delivered a total of 23 babies including two sets of twins, and didn't lose a single one. On the occasions when I got to see her in action, she was amazing. Confident and self-assured and very much in charge. Yet she always managed to provide comfort and reassurance to the scared and exhausted mothers. Of course they all loved her. 

And she loved it. She was happy. She'd fall asleep at night with a look of exhausted exhilaration on her face and wake up in the morning, or the middle of the night as was sometimes required, smiling and eager to get to work. I've never been so proud of her. And she was proud of herself too. She knew she was making a difference in the lives of these people. I would kid her about her new career, suggesting we chuck it all and quit our jobs in Chicago in favor of staying in the hills of Guatemala where Abby would be a midwife extraordinaire, and I would continue to minister to the more mundane everyday needs like sore throats, infections, and lacerations. We would laugh during our breaks about the complete and utter role reversal. At home it's the doctors who are revered while the nurses are left to handle the necessary, but completely unglamorous details. Here Abby was the one on the pedestal. Come to think of it, I think she was probably laughing a lot more than I was. But I was thrilled to see her so happy, so removed from her usual problems. I hated to see those two weeks come to an end. 

But of course they did, and we somewhat reluctantly prepared for our trip home. And then we got a call asking us to stay for another two weeks, since our replacements wouldn't be arriving after all. It didn't require much discussion, we both knew we would stay. Or so we thought. But it seems that while there were numerous people who could fill my shoes during our absence, Abby was irreplaceable. A nursing shortage meant they'd barely been able to find people to cover the two weeks she'd already been gone, there was no hope of finding any suckers willing to pull a bunch of doubles so Abby could stay in Central America and play baby doctor for a couple more weeks. Nope, the nurse manager was expected at 7am Monday morning and that was that. I told to Abby to just quit, she didn't need the job. She could go start a career in midwifery whenever we felt like going home. Apparently no one was too concerned about my return. I guess the nurses really do run the place. 

But as much as I wanted her to stay, and as much as she may have wanted that herself, she felt it was her responsibility to get back to work. I thought we would both go, but she urged me to stay. Having seen the need, she knew this place really shouldn't be without any medical staff for the two weeks until the next team arrived. So she left me to hold down the fort. She would go keep the home fires burning, and I would single-handedly take care of business here. She promised to talk to some of her old colleagues in OB and tell them what a wonderful experience this was in an attempt to drum up more staff for the program. Besides, we were running low on supplies and now that we knew what was most needed, she promised to steal what she could and ship it out right away. 

We said our good-byes in a small Guatemalan airport early the next day. 

__

"I'm gonna miss you." I said as I held her tight and kissed the top of her head. 

"Only because you'll have to do all my work." 

"Only because I feel like I can't breathe without you." 

"You are sooo dramatic sometimes." She sneered at my mushiness, making me laugh. 

"I am going to miss you, though. More than you know."

"I'm gonna miss this whole place … but you know what I'm going to miss the most?" 

"Me?" I asked humbly.

"The coffee." she said lightly as she pulled from my embrace and headed for the small twin engine that would take her on the first leg of her solo journey home. She'd turned and looked over her shoulder at me, smiling and waving one last time, before climbing up the stairs. But just moments after she disappeared inside the plane, she came back to the door. I looked up expectantly with an idea of what was coming. 

"I love you!" she shouted. 

"I love you, too!" I yelled as loud as I could to be sure she heard me over the racket of the plane. She moved away then, but a minute later her face appeared in one of the windows. And then her hand appeared as well, fingers arranged in the sign language symbol for the words we'd just yelled across the tarmac. I signed "I love you" right back to her, until the plane taxied off down the run away. I watched until lifted off into the sky and disappeared behind the clouds. 

I knew then I was facing two of the longest weeks of my life. 

But with so much work to do and so little manpower, those two weeks had flown by at remarkable speed. Punctuated with almost daily calls home to Abby, the days had come and gone, and before I knew it, I found myself in the same place Abby had been two weeks earlier. And now here I was, the cab pulling up outside our apartment. I'm at least an hour late getting home and I hope Abby is still awake. I search the window for signs of life and am glad to see the faint, soft glow of light from the living room windows. Maybe she is waiting up. 

I open the door and am immediately greeted with all the familiar scents that mean one thing to me: home. I put my bags down quietly, just inside the door and shrug out of my jacket, hanging it up with care. It's only then that I glance up and see her. Leaning against the doorway into the bedroom, she's watching me with a quiet smile on her face. Standing there wearing one of my pajama tops, and presumably, hopefully, nothing else. The hem of the blue material hits her mid-thigh, making her look long-legged as she leans against the door, rolling up the sleeves of the partially unbuttoned shirt. Her damp hair, somewhat wavy and unruly, cascades around her shoulders. She's obviously just gotten out of the shower, and the scent of soap and shampoo and something essentially Abby threatens to overwhelm me. I don't think I realized just how much I missed her until this moment. 

"Welcome home." Her voice is quiet, and the smile she gives me is shy. I grin back at her and slowly start across the room and she pushes herself off the doorway and heads in my direction. There's a part of me that wants nothing more than to grab her and rip her -- my -- shirt off and throw her on the bed. But another part of me says that maybe it would be good to act like civilized adults for once. Besides a little anticipation never hurt anyone. 

We meet in the middle of the room, and for a moment we just gaze into each other's eyes, smiling at one another, happy to be in same room, on the same continent once again. Then she slips her arms around my neck, reaching up on tip-toe to kiss me sweetly before laying her head against my shoulder. 

"I missed you. I'm glad you're home." 

"I'm glad to be home." I hold her tight and take in the scent of her. "You smell good." 

At this she laughs. "Are you sure that's not our burned dinner you are smelling?"

"You cooked?"

"I _can_ cook, you know." She pulls back enough to glare at me … but just a little bit. 

"I know. It's just that you usually don't."

"Well, it was a special occasion, so I thought I'd make you a home cooked meal, but …"

"Then you burned it?" I ask in a sympathetic tone. 

"Nooo," she says with expiration and a light swat to my shoulder. "Then you got home almost two hours late."

"Hey, that's not my fault. I wasn't the one flying plane." 

She pulls out of my embrace and waves at me dismissively. "Whatever." I can tell she's not really mad because she tosses a smile over her shoulder at me as she heads into the kitchen. "You look tired. Why don't you go take a shower and I'll see if I can salvage part of dinner." It sounds more like a directive than a suggestion, so I gather up my bags full of dirty clothes and head into the bathroom while Abby putters around the kitchen, humming quietly to herself. Yeah, it feels to good be home.

An hour or so later, with dinner done and the dishes washed, we've moved over to the couch and snuggled up together. Most of our meal was spent with me catching Abby up on what she missed in Central America. She listened attentively and certainly seemed happy enough, but I get the definite feeling that something is going on. She seems content, but she's awfully quiet and any attempts on my part to draw her out have gone nowhere. I'm not sure that there's anything wrong, but she certainly does seem to have something on her mind. Time to go fishing. 

She's curled up next to me, nestled between my arm and my chest, her bent knees resting on my leg. I jiggle my leg against hers to get her attention and she looks up at me. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing."

"Abby."

"Nothing's wrong. What could be wrong? You're home and everything's perfect." 

Uh-huh. Okay. Sure. But then why does she seem so distant, so wrapped up in her own thoughts. Something must be weighing on her. But I let it slide for the moment, and we sit in a companionable silence, just reconnecting after our time apart. But her silence bugs me. It's usually a sign of distress, of withdrawal. So I try again. 

"How's work been?" 

She shrugs against me. "Oh, you know. Same old shit, different day."

"So things have been bad?" Maybe something happened at work today that upset her. 

"No worse than usual." This really isn't helping. 

"So how was your day, today?" 

"Fine." Great thanks, that tells me a lot. I can't help it; I heave a big sigh. 

"What?" Her tone is quarrelsome, she recognized that sigh. 

"Why can't you just talk to me?" She slips out of my embrace and scoots to the other end of the couch, regarding me with a look of annoyance. 

"Why do _you_ have to push me to talk?" She shoots right back at me. Then her expression and her voice soften a bit. "You just got home. Why can't we just enjoy being together again?"

"Because you're acting weird." 

"I am not." 

"You are too." Yeah, this a real mature conversation we're having now. 

"How am I acting weird?" 

"Gee, I don't know Abby. You've barely said five words all night. I talked all through dinner and then when I try to ask you about what's been going on here, I get one word answers. Now I know there's something you're not telling me." I can feel my voice rising as my frustration level rises. But his is not the Abby that left me two weeks ago. She was so happy then and now she seems stressed out by something. I know something's bothering her, something must have happened in the past two weeks. "I want to know what happened while I was gone, and I want to know now!" 

She looks taken aback, and I realize I probably said that a lot more forcefully than I meant to. I cup my hands together, brining them up to rub my face. I trail my hands down along my cheeks and let out another sigh. This one contrite. She's right, I push. But I just can't stand the thought of not knowing what's obviously bothering her as she sits at the end of the couch, biting her lip and looking at me solemnly. 

"Abby," I start as I reach out my hand to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just … I just wish you'd tell me what's on your mind." She puts her hand in mine and then crawls across the couch and into my lap. She looks into my eyes, and I see in hers … fear and doubt. 

"I … I don't know how to say it." Her voice holds that same uncertainty as I saw in her eyes. 

"Just say it. You can tell me anything. You know that." She shakes her head slightly; I swear I catch a glimmer of tears in her eyes. 

"I .. I just … " She lays her head down on my shoulder and falls silent once again. 

"Abby?" She's got me worried now. At first I thought maybe this had something to do with work. Maybe she felt like she found a new calling during her brief stint as a de facto midwife and she was contemplating making a change -- going back to OB or med school. But I don't understand why she'd be so hesitant to talk to me about that.

"I want …" 

"What? Abby, what do you want?" Maybe she does want to change careers. Maybe she just wants to quit her job. Maybe she wants to leave me. That must be it. She wants a divorce. Or maybe … 

"I want a baby."


	2. Where It All Begins

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea _(CarbyLove@aol.com__)_

Rating: Probably pushing PG-13 … or maybe not, I don't quite know how to rate the written word. 

Author's Note: Thanks for all the great reviews and um … enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Dream Life

Chapter 2: Where It All Begins

He looks stunned. And why shouldn't he? It came as quite a surprise to me too. Not telling him just now. I knew I had do that as soon as he got home; it wasn't the kind of thing I could keep to myself for long. 

No, I'm still surprised that I made the decision at all. It's always been such a complicated issue for me. It's only been since I've been with Carter that I've even allowed myself to think that maybe motherhood was an attainable goal for me. I know he wants kids. And deep down, it's what I've always _wanted_ too. No, wanting it was never the issue. I always felt like it was something I _shouldn't_ do, no matter how much I may have wanted it. Have children and pass on my mother's disease? That's hardly fair to anyone. Have children and turn into Maggie or some reasonable likeness of her? I couldn't do that to my child. And I always figured that there would come that inevitable day when my children's father would disappear the way my own father had. Then what would I do? Besides, what makes me think I deserve another chance? I blew the chance that I got -- who am I to ask for a second chance? 

I'm still not sure that this is something I should be contemplating. All I know is that the thought of having a baby occupies my thoughts more and more. It's been steadily creeping up from the back of my mind for sometime now. Every time I watch Carter with kids in the ER, I think about it. Every time I take care of a child myself at work, I think about it. When I see families in the park or at the diner or walking down the street, I think about it. When I see diaper commercials, I think about it. Needless to say, when I was in Guatemala delivering baby after baby, I thought about it. A lot. 

But I didn't make the decision until I was coming home on the plane. In a fit of complete boredom, I started making a 'to do' list for when I got home. And then I cleaned out my purse. And in between gum wrappers and tissues and loose change, I came up with birth control pills. I popped the lid on the compact-like case, checking to see how many were left, just to find that it was nearly empty. I'd have to fill prescription as soon as I got home. Flipping the page on my notebook open, I'd started to write it down. And then I paused. And thought about it for a minute. 

At first I thought to myself that it was a good thing I was heading home after all. I hadn't thought to bring along a back-up supply of The Pill, and if I'd been in Guatemala for those next couple of weeks sharing a very small, very cozy, sometimes downright romantic hut with my husband, we could have come home with a bigger 'souvenir' than we'd intended. At first I felt relief, but then the regret started creeping in. Bored to death on the plane, I sat there and conjured up a whole fantasy of what might have been. We might have returned to Chicago together in a couple weeks. And then, shortly after that I might have noticed the first signs. I could see myself taking the test, nervous and hopeful, John close by my side. I could imagine us celebrating the fact that in a small hut, under the Guatemalan stars, we'd started our family. And for a moment it seemed so real that when I realized it would never be, a felt a lump in my throat. And it became to clear to me what I wanted. Maybe we wouldn't conceive a child under the Central American skies, but we could sure try for one at home, in our own bed. I scratched out the last entry on my 'to do' list. And mentally, I added a new one. 

"Abby?" His voice brings back to the moment. I look at his face, into his eyes. His dark brown pools, search my own eyes, probably trying to read me and make sure that this is true. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

I straighten up, lifting my head off his shoulder, rearranging myself so that I'm straddling his pajama-bottomed clad lap and we are face to face. I look right at him and say it clearly, boldly, with more confidence than I actually feel. "I want to have a baby."

"You do?" I nod slightly, biting on my lip, trying not to let my nerves get the better of me. "Really?" Another nod in the affirmative. Our hands are clasped together, held between our bodies. I look down at them for a moment, and when I look back up at his face, it's just in time to catch the transformation. The look of surprised awe gives way to one of complete joy and excitement. And then he starts laughing. It's contagious. Soon we're sitting on the couch laughing and smiling. I had a feeling this would make him happy. After a few moments of some giggly laughter, he leans forward and captures my lips in a kiss. He pulls away and looks at me with tears pooled up in his eyes.

"I love you." His voice is soft and tender.

"I love you, too." Of course I do. If I didn't love him so much, I wouldn't be able to consider this. But with him it's different. I know it is. He's not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. And I know with absolutely certainty that even if the day came when he and I couldn't be together anymore, he'd never walk away from his children. Of course, I can't fathom a day when we wouldn't be together. Sure we have our fights, our disagreements, and sometimes there have been moments that threatened to tear us apart. And somehow we've gotten through every one of those and come out the other side stronger and closer. 

"So …" he starts with a huge grin on his face that he can't seem to wipe off, "when did this happen?" 

"On the plane, coming home." I recount the details of the boredom, my flight of fantasy, the unfilled prescription. 

"Let me see if I've got this straight. You decided you wanted to have a baby when you realized how close you came to being stranded with your husband in a third world nation without proper access to birth control?"

"Pretty much. I was kind of regretting the lost opportunity. Of course, as it turns out, there probably wouldn't have been an opportunity while we were in Guatemala anyway."

"We seemed to do just fine in that hut."

"Yeah, I remember." I wiggle in his lap a little bit, doing a little bump and grind with my hips against his. His hands have let go of mine and wander over my thighs, around to my butt and up my back. "But that's not what I meant." 

"Oh, what did you mean?" I hear a little moan escape from deep in his throat as I lean forward to plant a kiss on his neck before answering.

"Well, it wouldn't have been the right time. You know, I wouldn't have been ovulating." 

"And uh … when will you be ovulating?" His hands hold my hips in place while his hips move upward, making sure I can feel the stirring underneath the bottom half of the pair of pajamas we are sharing.

"Well, there's no guarantee that I will just yet. You know as well as I do that when a woman stops taking The Pill, it can take months for her body to start working again." My turn to moan as he leans his head forward into the v-made by the undone top buttons of my shirt. With his head nuzzling between my breasts, his lips caress the smooth skin of my chest

"And some woman miss one pill and get pregnant." His voice is husky now and somehow that is just about the sexiest thing he could have said to me at the moment. 

"That's true. But I might not start ovulating for months." 

"But let's just say it was gonna happen, when exactly would it be happening?" 

"Uh … now." 

"So?" He's kissing my neck and running his hands up and down my back again. To be honest, I'm not sure I'm really following the conversation anymore. 

"So what?" 

"Did you?

"Did I what?" 

He pulls away from my neck and his hands stop moving. "Did you send in your entry for the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes?"

"Huh?"

"Abby, try to stay with me here."

"Okay, sorry." 

"So did you?" 

"Send in my sweepstakes entry? I don't really think this is the time --"

"Agh!" His head falls back against the couch in mock frustration. I lean forward and find his mouth for a short kiss. Soon enough his lips stray back to my neck and down to my partly exposed shoulder.

"To answer your _other_ question … I don't know. I was never one of those women who could just tell when they were ovulating. And even if I could have once-upon-a-time, I've been on the pill so long now, I'm not sure I would remember what it felt like that." 

"So you _could_ be ovulating right now." He looks up from neck and smiles devilishly at me.

My arms wrapped around his neck I say, "There's only one way to find out."

"Wanna go make a baby?" 

"Yeah, let's go make a baby." 

He stands up, lifting me up with him. My legs wrap around his waist and I bend my head down so that our lips can meet in a quick kiss before he starts off for the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed, his own body following along. I've missed this while we've been apart. The familiar feeling of his weight on top of me, the comfort I've always found in it. He's kissing my neck again, and slowly moving his lips down to my chest. I close my eyes and think about how different this is from all the other times. Oh, I know the odds are against me actually getting pregnant this time, but still this is the first time we will actually be joining together in the hopes of creating a new life. And there is something incredibly beautiful about making love, knowing that you are trying to make a baby. Whether our child is created tonight or not, I know this is the start of something big, a whole new era in our lives together. And I know our lovemaking tonight will be like no other. 

"Abby?" He's brought his face back up level with mine. His eyes are shining, and I know he's thinking the same thoughts I am. A couple of hopeless romantics. Yeah, that's us. "Abby, are you sure?" 

Am I sure? Of course not. How can I be sure when my heart says one thing, and most of the time, my head says something else? I don't think I can ever really be sure. But I think that maybe it's time to listen to my heart. "Yeah," I tell him, "I'm sure." And we seal those words with a kiss. 

It's a long lingering kiss. Deep and sensual. We're making a promise to each other in that moment. A commitment quite unlike any other that either of us has ever experienced. We're committing to having a child together, to always being, quite literally, a part of each other. Because once there is a child born that is a part of each of us, our lives will be forever entwined. In some ways this feels like an even bigger commitment than marriage. Marriages end. The bonds of parenthood are forever. But there's no one else in this world I'd want to go through it with but him. 

"You're gonna be the best daddy." Normally not the kind of thing to say to a man who is carefully running his tongue around your ear, but on this night it's different. Those words only serve to fuel his fire. 

He stops for a moment to look into my eyes. "And our kids are gonna be so lucky to have you as their mother." I smile up at him and he smiles back before leaning down to attack my mouth once again. 

Our lovemaking this night _is _different. Sweet and gentle, as it often is. But infused with something more. We're both caught up in the romanticism of making a baby together. And I feel closer to him than ever. 

Afterwards, we lie close together, arms wrapped around each other. His head rests on my naked chest, his hands lightly caress my back. I look down at him as he turns his eyes up toward me. 

"So … do you think it worked?" He asks with that sweet little grin of his. Somehow this makes me picture what could be happening inside my body very shortly. Only I see it as a cartoon. In my mind I see the cartoon egg just floating along, minding its own business when it's suddenly it's barraged by an army of pushy sperm trying to weasel their way in. It's a funny image so I laugh. "I didn't think it was _that_ out of the question." He says with a snort of indignation. 

"It's not." I say, as I fight for control. "That's not what I was laughing. I was just … oh never mind." Somehow I can't bring myself to talk about cartoon conceptions out loud. 

"So what do you think?" 

"I don't know. How would I know something like that?"

"Women's intuition?"

"I don't think I have that. But I don't know, what are the odds if it happening on the first try?"

"You never know, maybe we got lucky."

"I don't think I'm that lucky." 

"Maybe I am. After all, I was lucky enough to get you." I roll my eyes at this and give him a playful nudge in the hip with my knee. 

"You better get off me."

"Why?" he asks, looking perfectly content in his resting place, body between my legs, head using my breasts as a pillow.

"Because I should really be elevating my hips, don't you think? Using gravity to give things a little help?"

"Oh, right. Good idea." He shifts his position to lay besides me, propped up on one arm. He pulls a pillow from behind him. "Here you go. Put this under you." Oh my God, he thought I was serious. Um, okay, I'll play along. I get situated with a pillow under my butt. I can't believe this really helps things along, but if it makes him happy … just so long as he doesn't try to make me stand on my head. 

He reaches out and run his hand over my belly. Softly, reverently. "Just think. There could be all kinds of magic going on in there right now. It could be just a matter or time until you have a baby growing in you. The whole thing could be starting right now." 

"You really think so?"

"Sure, why not? The virility of the Carter men is legendary."

I raise an eyebrow to that one. "Oh really. Some legend; I've never heard a thing about it." 

"Well, I like to keep it quiet. Wouldn't have wanted to scare you away or anything."

"Uh-huh. So what do you think? Should we be making a bet? You seem pretty confident." 

"And you're not?"

"Well, let's just say, I wouldn't want you to get your hopes up." I look at him solemnly. "Seriously, I don't want you to be disappointed if it doesn't happen right away. It's bound to take a few months. But don't worry, I'm not challenging the Carter family honor … if it takes some time, it's bound to just be my body needing a chance to readjust." 

"Oh well," he says as he rolls over on to his back, hands behind his head. "If it didn't happen this time … we'll just have to keep trying." 

"Yeah, and that would be such a burden. But I guess if that's what it takes …"

"Well, practice does make perfect." 

"Well …" I give him a wicked little smile. 

"Maybe we should get some more 'practice' right now."

"Do you think we really need it?" I ask he leans over to kiss me. 

"Oh yeah," he says between kisses. "Definitely. Besides, the more often we do it, the better the chances."

"Oh really?" 

"The more sperm the better, don't you think?"

"I don't think that's the way it works. I mean, too often and we just deplete the resources." 

"Abby, could you just play along?" he asks as his body once again covers mine. 

Yeah, sure … I can do that. 


	3. Late

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea _(CarbyLove@aol.com__)_

Rating: R. You'll notice I bumped it up to R because I answered the request for some smut. If anyone doesn't like to read that kind of thing … um, I guess you'd better skip this chapter. Or most of it anyway.

Author's Note: So I know I said that Chapter 3 would be a long one, but as it turns out, it's actually kind of short. There's a reason for that, though. I decided that what I had intended to put into Chapter 3 would actually work better as two separate chapters. So here's a short'n'smutty Chapter 3 for those of you who were hoping for some of that kind of thing. And Chapter 4 should be up shortly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Dream Life

Chapter 3: Late

I'm just pouring the juice while I wait for the toast to pop up, when I feel his arms slide around me.

Arms wrapping around my waist and his head on my shoulder, we sway back and forth as I crane my head around for my good-morning kiss. It was the simple things like this that I missed the most when we were apart. No one to say good morning to. No one to give me a good morning kiss. I even missed the morning breath. 

"Morning, beautiful." He mumbles into my mass of bed-head hair. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead." I say as I push him away playfully. "I didn't think you would ever wake up. I was forced to start cooking in the hopes that the smell of scrambled eggs would somehow manage to penetrate the coma you had apparently slipped into." 

"Hey, I can't help it. Jet lag. That fact that somebody kept me up all night didn't help either."

"Sleepless nights … better get used to it." He just grins at me. I knew this whole baby thing would make him happy, but I didn't realize just how much he wanted it. After all, we never really talked about it I should have learned my lesson about that from the last time around, but somehow it just never came up. And now, I guess, it really doesn't matter.

"Well, it was for a good cause …" He says, drawing me out of my thoughts. "I guess it's worth being late for my first shift in a month."

"Somehow I don't think Weaver will agree." 

"Well, I'm sure once I tell her why I was late, she'll cut me some slack." 

"For jet lag? I don't think so." 

Reaching out for me and turning me around to face him, he says, "Well, maybe we just need to come up with a better excuse." His hands move to my waist as his lips move in to capture mine in a lingering kiss. While his tongue explores my mouth, his hands travel from my waist down the hem of his pajama top that I've claimed as my own. When his hands slide up inside it touching my bare flesh, I find myself shivering. If this is what two weeks apart does to us, maybe we should try it more often. His body closes the distance between us, pushing my back against the counter, but all I can feel are his warm hands, his hot lips, the extent of his desire as he brushes up against my leg. His lips leave mine to start a trail across jaw and up to my ear.

"Uhhnn," the words I mean to speak come out as a moan. I try again, "Somehow I don't think 'sex on the kitchen floor' will be an acceptable excuse either."

"Who said anything about the floor?" I catch his grin as he hoists me up on to the counter and then immediately moves his head to my breast, nuzzling and sucking on the nipple through the thin fabric. 

"Okay, sex on the kitchen _counter _then_. _But that's not going to be an good excuse either."

"Abby," he starts as he pulls his head away from my chest, "it's not like this is purely _recreational_. I mean, if we want a baby, this is the sacrifice we'll have to make."

"Well, I guess if we _have to_. But still, I think we provided plenty of chances for Baby Carter to pop into existence last night, don't you?" 

"Probably. But somehow 'I had to impregnate my wife' sounds better than 'I was horny.' I mean, as excuses go …"

"You'd better not use either one. Maybe we should just put this on hold until later. And get to work now."

"I don't think I can wait. I missed you so much." 

"Apparently. But I though this was supposed to be procreational sex, not making-up-for-lost time sex." By now, his hands are still busy running all around my bare flesh under my nightshirt. His lips have found there way back to my neck, and I'm starting to forget all about getting to work on time. Or at all, even.

"It can be both."

"You really want to conceive our child in the kitchen?"

"Why not? Maybe it'll grow up and be a gourmand."

"Speaking of food … breakfast will get cold, you know."

"Who needs to eat?" 

Okay, all good arguments. Persuasive, although probably not quite as persuasive as one hand trailing up and down my back while the other gently fondles my breast. At this rate, we really won't ever get to work "Aren't you worn out after last night?"

"Nope. I've been saving up my energy the past few weeks." 

"Good to know. But really, we are gonna be so late. By the time we do … this and shower and get dressed …" I trail off as he looks up at me with a mischievous little grin. 

"Maybe there's a way we can save some time after all." He says with a waggle of his eyebrows. Well, hell … who doesn't love steamy shower sex? Yeah, okay, that could work. He untangles his body from mine and grabs my hand, helping me hop off the counter. We practically skip into the bathroom. Within moments our pajamas are on a heap on the floor. He turns on the water before turning back to me. He pins me up against the wall, one hand on either side of my head and leans down to kiss me. Over and over we kiss, waiting for the water to warm up. And then we climb in together, hand in hand. I would have thought that last night would have been more than enough, but maybe we're going for some sort of record here. Not that I'm complaining. In my experience, being naked in the shower, with my husband, is generally a good thing. 

At the moment he's soaping up the loofa and giving me a smoldering look. Something tells me this whole shower thing isn't really going to save us any time. He reaches out and takes hold of my arm -- just my _arm _for God's sake -- and shivers rush up and down my body. 

"Cold?" he asks. I just shake my head mutely. Even if I were, I have a feeling I'll be warming up shortly. He's already off to a good start with his hands running all over my body. Which is perfectly understandable for the hand with the loofa, but what his other hand is doing has absolutely nothing with helping me get clean. The loofa, however, is producing lots of bubbles which are running in warm rivulets over my body and pooling at my feet. At the moment, he is softly and slowly rubbing my shoulders. I watch as his eyes follow the path of bubbles across my shoulders, over my breasts, down my stomach. It only takes a moment until his hands follow where his eyes were moments ago. I lean my head back and close my eyes. I only open them when, suddenly, his hands are gone. Oops, he dropped the sponge. And he's bending over to pick it up. Well, I can't resist an opportunity like that so I reach to pinch his cute little butt. 

"Ow!" He stands up abruptly and gives me hurt look. "That hurt."

I roll my eyes at his apparent display of whimpiness "Aww, do you need a kiss to make it better?" 

"Uh-huh," he nods as he leans in for a kiss. Our lips meet, and then I find myself giving myself over completely to the kiss. My lips part as his tongue slips inside my mouth. My hands reach out for him, wrapping around his shoulders, kneading them for a moment before sliding down to his chest. As our kisses continue, my hands run up and down his chest, rubbing and massaging, much the way his hands are behaving on my back, my butt, my thighs. At this point any resistance that I had to the idea of this morning rendezvous is gone. In fact, I think at this point, the fire alarm could go off and I wouldn't move from this shower. That's how aroused I've become sharing this first-in-a-very-long-time shower with this incredible man whose arms I'm wrapped up in. That's really not surprising considering that we have been apart for awhile. And the fact that he really knows what he's doing doesn't hurt either. He truly has a talent for turning me to into a swooning, wanton maniac when he's around. Especially when we happen to be wet and naked and his hands are finding their way to all my most sensitive flesh.

And judging by the insistent throbbing against my stomach, I must have the same effect on him. The evidence of his arousal is trapped between our bodies, but as my hands slide ever closer, I feel his hands wrap around my wrists and pulling my hands away from his body and pushing them against the wall of the shower. Uh-oh, pinned again. Our kisses take on a deeper urgency, our moans filling the steamy space. My eyes are closed again and I'm lost in the heat of this desire. In the smell of him. In the feel of our bodies so close together. And then his hands slide down my arms, down the side of my body, and wrap around my waist. My unpinned arms fall onto his shoulders once again, wrapping lightly around his neck, idly playing with the soft brown locks of his hair. 

"God I've missed this." I say. Because it may only be at this very moment that I've realized just how much I have missed it. 

"What? You didn't do this while I was gone?" He says between noisy kisses to my neck. 

"No!" 

"Really?"

"Of course not."

"Huh. No showers for two weeks. Wow." His hands are simultaneously trailing slowly and sensually up and down my sides. The inside of his finger tips on the way up, the outside on the way down, in a steady with rhythm with his warm flesh just managing to lightly brush the sides of my breasts. Somehow I manage to speak anyway.

"Very funny. But I certainly didn't have any showers like this." I manage to squeak out as his mouth finds the hollow at the base of my throat. "I don't ever wanna be apart again."

"Ah, but the reunion is so much fun." 

"Sure this time. But if we manage to accomplish what we are supposedly trying to accomplish here …"

"A baby," he supplies.

"Exactly … if that happens, you can just kiss this kind of 'I've missed you so much, I have to have you right now' reunion sex good-bye. No more up-all-night sex. No more kitchen sex. No more shower sex. Probably no more sex at all with a baby in the house."

"Now Abby, that can't possibly be true. Otherwise, no one would ever be able to have a second one." He points out as reach up to kiss his shoulder, his neck. Finally settling on one particular spot and sucking deeply. Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark. 

"Maybe you're right. But still, it won't be the same." I say, as I notice that this talk about babies has inspired him to slip his hands between our bodies and gently rub my belly. Maybe he thinks it's like a magic lantern -- rub it enough and a baby will appear. 

"All the more reason to enjoy this now." 

His strong hands and long fingers wrap back around my waist as he lifts me up. My arms wrap tightly around his neck, my legs wrap around his back. One of his hands on the wall of the shower next to me, keeping our balance, the other cradling my butt, his long fingers somehow supporting my weight. He kisses my lips once again. And then he's inside me. And I'm complete. We set a slow and steady rhythm, our bodies moving together fluidly and effortlessly. This is a dance we know well. But it's so much more now. After having been apart, it's about rediscovery. And after having decided to try and create a new life together, it's about something so much greater than just the two of us. Just like last night, this union feels likes something bigger than just our passion for each other. We cling to each other, stroking ,caressing, possessing one another. He moves gently in and out of me, creating wave after wave of pleasure, but what makes me happiest is the knowledge that in this most primitive of acts, we could be about to become part of the very best of everyday miracles. 

"I love you." I whisper into his ear as I pull his head close to my own. I feel completely surrounded by him. And completely overwhelmed by this notion of 'us.' The atmosphere is so charged with our heat, our scent … it's almost like our love is something tangible that I could reach out and touch. And then I realize that soon it may be just that, in the form of a baby that's grown out of that love and that is most literally, us. The thought of 'us' becoming a trio is so overwhelming, that the thought makes me dizzy. Then again, maybe the dizziness comes from the fact that every move, every touch is driving me closer to the edge. 

"Love you, too." He mumbles into my neck as he suddenly increases the rhythm. His moans take on a note of desperation. He's getting close and so am I. I pull him closer to me and get lost in him, as he is lost in me. We're lost in each other; we are truly one. And suddenly I'm overtaken by the intensity of these feelings. I give in and let go, feeling a thousand sparks rush through my body as, with a groan, he deposits what I've come to think of as 'my baby juice' deep inside me. Suddenly our movements cease and we just hold on to other, not moving, just trying to catch our breath. For a moment we stay like that … joined together as one, just riding out the incredible waves of feeling … kissing each other's bare skin and reveling in being this close once again. And in some ways, closer than ever before. I feel like I could stay this way forever. But then he steps back while gently lifting me away from him and back down to the ground. Of course my knees feel weak and I'm not sure I can really stand, but he holds on to me tightly for a moment, let me get my footing. 

"The water's starting to get cold." He says as he retrieves the forgotten loofa and begins to lather up. "Besides, we wouldn't want to be late for work, would we?"

"Well, you know … now that I think about it … I guess, some things are worth being late for." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

__

Author's Note: You didn't really think I'd have her pregnant THAT fast did you? Okay, sorry if anyone was disappointed. Hope you enjoyed the toned-down, supposed-to-be-R-rated smut. I know that this chapter did absolutely nothing to advance the 'plot,' but it was just supposed to be fun. Anyway, for those of you who may be wondering, time isn't always going to move this slowly. These have taken place close together, but that will change soon. I mean, my God, I don't have time to write two chapters for every damn day in the life of Carby.


	4. Second Thoughts

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea _(CarbyLove@aol.com__)_

Rating: R for smut.

Summary: Previously, Carter came home from his world travels and was annoyed that Abby wouldn't talk to him. Abby finally told him that she wants to bear his spawn. He was surprised. But then they had sex. The next day Abby made breakfast, but they never ate it because they were too busy having sex. In the shower. Even if it made them late for work. In this chapter, Susan shows up. So do Duncan's Donuts. Abby and Carter discuss the meaning of life. Susan and Abby discuss world peace. Things get a little physical. And a tragic event brings the ER together. Or maybe not. Read it and find out.

Author's Note: As always, thanks for the reviews. Catherine, thanks for the interactive editing. So anyway, remember when I said I was splitting Chapter 3 into two parts? Yeah, make that three parts. And this chapter is STILL long. If there seems to be a lack of plot advancement in this one too … um, too bad. Sometimes you just have to do some set-up. So someone asked for more detailed smut. Well, with this being an "R" rating, I wouldn't want to get too graphic. But … I, uh, just might have some NC-17 stuff that I might be willing to share if you e-mail me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

A Dream Life

Chapter 4: Second Thoughts 

We manage to slide into work just in time, after setting at least one record this morning. I think we managed to achieve the new speed dressing record. I'm not sure we ever _put on_ clothes quite that fast. And thanks to my brilliant suggestion about just wearing our scrubs to work, we've arrived with enough time to actually enjoy Carter's welcome back party. 

And by welcome back party, I mean that Susan has dropped a giant box of donuts on the table in the lounge. Nevertheless, I'm considerably cheered by the site, seeing as how after our little tryst in the shower, the eggs were cold and the toast was burnt. Jelly donut -- ah, breakfast at last. For the moment, it's just the three of us in here. Susan came running in just moments ago and without a word, plopped the box down in front of Carter and I. 

"I hope you appreciate this," Susan says without preamble, after carefully choosing her own donut. 

"Of course I do, Susan." Carter says in mock seriousness. "I mean, I'm gone a month and I don't even get a 'hi, how are you?' or a 'welcome back' … but I did get a box of donuts." 

"Hi, how are you? Welcome back. And you don't know what I had to do to keep this box of donuts away from the vultures out there. I wanted to make sure that you got first dibs at the good ones, but of course you two have to take your sweet time getting here this morning. Silly me. I thought that since it was your first day back, you might actually get here early." 

"Well, we were … busy." Carter tells her. 

"More like ' gettin' busy.'" I amend. 

"Abby!" Carter sounds a little shocked. 

"What?" 

"I wouldn't worry about it, Carter. It's not like that's a shocking revelation." Susan informs him. " I mean, just look at you guys now." 

Well now, what's that supposed to mean? Just because I'm sitting here on Carter's lap and he's helpfully licking the remnants of jelly donut off my fingers … slowly, deliberately … sucking each digit into his mouth, running one of his own fingers over my lips … it's like she's saying there's something wrong with that. Or maybe she objects to the way I just snagged a chocolate covered donut and have trailed my finger through the icing before presenting it to Carter's waiting mouth. The man likes chocolate, so what? Come to think of it, I like chocolate. Maybe I'll just have to have a little taste myself. His eyes lock on mine as I bring the pastry up to my mouth, nibbling at it ever so slightly, licking at the sweet chocolate frosting. Under me, I feel him shift his weight in the chair, and I respond accordingly, turning my body, so that we are facing each other. 

"Mmm, good." Okay, that came out a lot more like a moan than actual words, but whatever.

"Looks good." Now he could be talking about the donut. Then again, his eyes do seem to be rather fixated on my boobs, so maybe he's talking about my suddenly perky nipples that must be obvious through my t-shirt. 

"You want a taste?" 

"Definitely."

"Oh, you had better be talking about that donut." Susan pipes up from somewhere behind me. Susan. Oh yeah, that's right. She's here too. I crane my neck around to catch of glimpse of her and see that she looks somewhat disgusted. "Yech," she says, dropping what's left of her breakfast back on to the napkin in front of her. 

"Something wrong with your donut?" I ask sweetly. 

"No, I think I've just lost my appetite after that display."

"What display?" Carter asks, but his words come out slightly slurred. And his eyes, still set on me, seem heavy with lust. I realize belatedly that my face feels flushed and various other parts feel vaguely … uh … damp. 

"This amateur-hour porn display. Honestly, I know you've been apart for two whole weeks, but try to get it under control."

"What would you know about amateur porn, anyway, Susan?" I can't help but ask. 

"Apparently not as much as you two."

"Abby! You told her about that?"

"Nooo, John, you just did."

"Oh my God, I'm so not hearing this." Susan says, her eyes wide. 

"Well, we got that new video camera, and we had to try it out." 

"You're joking, right? Gotta be a joke." 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I ask. 

"No, not really." She says, heading to the door. "And I'm certainly never watching any kind of 'home videos' at your place ever again." 

She pushes through the door closest to the admit desk, and I realize in a matter of moments everyone's gonna start pouring in here. It'll probably be a mad dash, they'll be so excited. But all the pushing and shoving won't be pleasant. I've never seen people who get so worked up over donuts. I figure maybe it would be politic of me to get off Carter's lap and find my own chair because once the WWF donut smack down is over, it'll be meet and greet time for Carter. But as I go to stand up, his arm wraps around me tightly, holding me on his lap, my back to his chest. Aww, I guess he really did miss me. Either that or he wants to use me as camouflage for what's going on in his lap. Of course, keeping me on his lap would only seem to make that situation all the more dangerous. But in this last moment that we have to ourselves, he buries his head in my neck, and I realize, if he doesn't care, I'm not gonna fight it. 

"It was nice of Susan to bring me donuts." He says as he nuzzles my neck ever-so-lightly. 

"Uh-huh. Of course, she got me a cake."

"You got a cake?" 

"Yep, it said 'Welcome back, Abby' and everything." 

"I'm jealous."

"You should be. She obviously likes me better."

"Ouch. That hurts."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, the cake originally said 'Welcome back, _Carter and_ Abby' but you didn't come back, so apparently Susan just scraped off the 'Carter and' …" 

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better." 

I put one hand on his cheek, turning his head toward me so I can give him a little kiss. 

"That made me feel better," he informs me. 

But before we can let this go any further, the lounge starts filling up with our friends and co-workers, wanting to welcome Carter home … and get a shot at the donuts, of course. So the donut war ensues, Carter receives various handshakes, and then it's back to business as usual. Before Weaver shows up and ruins the party anyway. 

In typical fashion, John lucks out and gets a perfectly boring, quiet morning. _I _got hit with six back-to-back traumas my first day back. Of course, Carter was probably hoping for some excitement. So far he's stitched up a rollerblader, treated a dizzy little old lady, and handed out a prescription to a guy with strep throat. The most excitement we could produce this particular morning is a six-year-old with a possibly broken ankle. But with x-ray backed up due to some technical glitch, he's in a holding pattern. Boredom gets the best of me and decide to restock the drug lock-up just for something to do. If I'd know things were going to be this dismal, I would have suggested that we call in sick. To think I could be at home, right now, with John. Probably naked. Definitely not bored. Okay, best not to think about that. This day is long enough as it is, better not get myself all worked up -- it'll only make the wait for this evening that much more intolerable. The fact that he's just slid up behind me in the drug lock-up is going to go along way toward that whole intolerable wait thing. At first I think he's just trying to slip past me or reach for some drug above my head.

"Need something?" I ask idly while double-checking my list. 

"Yeah … you."

"Oh, did you get the ankle film back?" We might have to do a cast. Woo hoo.

"Nope."

"Oh. What do you need me for then?" I turn around to face him, figuring he's going to inform me of an impending trauma or some new patient. Wrong. I see the look in his eyes, and I know it's not my nursing skills that he's interested in. "John …" There's a note of warning, along with hint of disappointment in my voice. 

"Wanna go fool around in one of the many, many empty exam rooms?" He asks as his hands find a resting spot on my hips and his head dips down toward mine. 

I can't help but laugh. "Well, that was subtle." 

"Oh. Sorry. Uh … hey Abby? I need a hand with something in Exam 4. Better?"

"You need a hand, huh? Yeah, I'll bet." 

"Well, that'll be a good start." 

He pulls me into a nearby exam room and shuts the door firmly, flipping the lock. He twists the blinds closed with a flourish and practically leaps on to the gurney that I've settled on. Immediately we're making out like a couple of teenagers in a movie theater. Except, of course, that we are lying on a gurney, and there's no movie playing to mask the soft sighs and moans. Well now, this is much better than restocking the drug lock-up. Things start to get a little hot and heavy, which is quite enjoyable. My scrub top and t-shirt have disappeared and his hands have found their way under my tank top, kneading the round swells of my breasts, carefully caressing the hard nipples. Between his lips on the pulse point in my neck and his strong hands grasping greedily at my boobs, I'm a pretty much at his mercy. But when he reaches for the waistband of scrubs, pulling open the drawstring tie, I find myself pushing him away. 

"John … wait. Are you sure you want to do this here?"

"It's not like it's the first time." 

"I know. But that was a long time ago. And things are … different, now."

"Because of this whole baby thing? Let me guess. You don't want our child conceived in the hospital anymore than you wanted it conceived in the kitchen?"

"Well, actually, here in this ER would be oddly appropriate for us. But no, I'd rather not … I mean, if we _had _to … like if it was the only time we had a chance to be together during the entire window of opportunity and so it was our _only_ chance, that would be a different story. But since we were busy last night, not to mention this morning, creating plenty of chances … And I may not even be ovulating, so we don't even know if there's a 'target' for your 'troops' to aim at." 

"Well," he laughs, "Maybe we can just pretend. Because, you know, I've been in this 'perpetually aroused' state since this morning in the lounge." 

"You say that like it's my fault." 

"It is your fault. You drive me crazy." 

"I think you've just become insatiable." 

As if to prove my point, he kisses me greedily, laying me back against the gurney once again, covering his body with mine. I can feel his desperation, his need. I can feel the hardness of his erection as our pelvises grind together. I can feel that I'm stuck with damp panties again. But do I really want to do this here, with people walking the halls just outside the door? Oh what the hell? I can only see one way out of it at this point. And what's the worst that could happen? We'll get caught? Susan'll walk in and get an eyeful? We probably wouldn't even notice. 

I pull him even closer to me, signaling my willingness. This time, when he reaches for my scrub bottoms, I don't stop him. Not when his hand slips inside them or when he eases them, along with the increasingly damp panties, down my legs. And when his hand travels back up my naked leg and seeks the heat of my core, I find myself arching my back to meet his fingers. Within moments the world has faded away and it's just the two of us. We melt together. He's deep inside in me. For the moment nothing exists but our conjoined bodies and the moans softly escaping our throats. This isn't the slow and gentle love-making of last night … this is much more primal. And the forbidden nature of it only serves to heighten our excitement. We throw ourselves at each other again and again. It isn't long until our moans escalate to a fevered pitch, matching only our thrusts against one another. And then, with a strangled cry escaping his lips and an ecstatic moment of utter silence and stillness from me, it's over. 

His lips seek out mine, and he kisses me sweetly. "Thanks. I feel much better now."

I laugh. "Yeah, me too," I tell him. He just grins at me, seeming perfectly content to stare into my eyes until the end of time. "Hey, as much as I'd love to just lie here basking in the afterglow, I'm wearing nothing but a tank top. Maybe I should get dressed." 

He laughs as he rolls off the gurney and onto his feet. Since getting dressed for him basically consists of hitching his scrubs back up to their proper position, he helpfully starts retrieving various articles of my clothing. I'm not sure how my scrub top came to be draped over an IV pole, but within minutes I've put myself back together, we've straightened up the room, and I'm slipping out the door, pile of linens in my hands. I take a furtive look down the hall, but the coast seems clear. I dump the sheet in the nearest laundry cart and hurry down the hall trying to look like I've been doing something important that didn't involve having sex in an exam room. I walk up to the admit desk and no one points or stares or makes any lewd comments, so I figure no one suspects anything. A few moments later, Carter sidles up to the desk, all business. Except, of course, that he's whistling under his breath, and he pats my ass as he walks by on the way to check out a 'slip and fall' that's just come in. But again, no one seems to notice anything. Maybe. 

"So … Abby," Susan says to me with an amused smile on her face, "Having an interesting morning? Been treating a special patient maybe?" I'm assuming, because of the wink she gives me, that she knows. 

"Uh …" is about the best I can manage. No witty rejoinder comes to mind. But she just laughs.

"So, since you've been off 'working up an appetite,' you wanna go get some lunch? Doc's?" 

"Well, I don't know …" I throw a look over my shoulder to see what Carter's up to. He seems to still be occupied with that 'slip and fall' -- one of our frequent fliers who will undoubtedly have several different complaints and be in need of a variety of tests. And I am getting hungry, so … I turn back to Susan. "Okay, let me just tell John." 

"He's a big boy, Abby. I think he'll be able to figure it out. It's lunchtime, so he might figure that … I don't know, you went to lunch?" She grabs my arm and starts tugging me toward the door. "Come on, we better go now while the coast is clear. No patients, no Weaver." 

Carter must notice us heading toward the door and he gives me a questioning look. I point toward Doc Magoo's and give him a little wave. Then I point to him and then back toward the restaurant. He nods, so I assume that he understood the meaning of that pantomime. "Abby?" Susan give me an eye roll from the door way, and I hurry after her, figuring John will join us when he can. 

"So," Susan starts almost before I can sit down, "what's the deal with you two?" 

"What do you mean?" I ask. 

"Well, you guys have been all over each other like bunny rabbits in heat all morning. I mean first you treat me to that scene in the lounge. And it was really more than I wanted to know about your donut-eating habits." I can't help but giggle at that. And maybe blush, just a little. "And then, when you two weren't off giving each other 'physicals,' you were making googly eyes at each other across the room. I don't think I ever remember seeing you two so lovey-dovey."

"Well, he's been gone for the past two weeks."

She just fixes me with a steady gaze. "Yeah, two _weeks_ Abby. Not two months. Not two years. A two-week dry spell is hardly any big deal. Believe me."

"Yeah, well … we don't usually go two weeks. Hell, we don't usually go two days." 

"Really?" She says dryly, "I'm so shocked."

"Shut up." But I'm laughing. The waitress appears to take our order, but as soon as she leaves, Susan starts in again. 

"Okay, so you guys are busy getting 'reacquainted.' Fine. But there's still something else, something different with you two. I know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but really."

I debate with myself about whether or not to tell her. My instinct is to keep this all a big secret. At least for now. But then I realize that this is Susan. If I don't tell her, she'll probably just brow beat me until I do. Maybe it's best to skip the middle step. 

"Well, actually, Susan …" 

"Yeah?" 

"Okay … but you have to promise not to say a word to anyone."

"I can do that."

"Okay. Well. John and I … well, we're … uh … well, kinda … uh" Geez, this is harder than I thought it would be. A lot harder. But she's looking at me expectantly so I better tell her something. Okay, here goes. 

"We're trying for a baby." 

Well, her head hasn't spun around on her neck and she hasn't fallen over dead, so maybe it's not the most absurd thing she's ever heard. In fact, there's a smile spreading across her face. 

"Really?" I nod. The smile is in her eyes now. And she looks at me sweetly, looking almost choked up. "Oh my God, that's so great." 

"You really think so?" I find I'm biting my lip, hoping that she really does think this isn't such a bad idea. 

"Yeah, of course. Oh, you guys will be so great. And talk about beautiful babies. Not to mention lucky to have parents like you."

I look at her face and see that she's serious. I smile and blush. "I hope so."

"I _know_ so. Abby, you're a natural. And Carter? Well, that man was born to be a father. He's gonna be terrific. A little neurotic maybe, but great nonetheless."

"Yeah. I know." That's the one part in this whole thing that I'm absolutely sure about. Carter's gonna be a fantastic dad. 

"So is _that_ what the business in the exam room was all about?" 

"Well, sort of. I mean, I think it was really about that whole ' getting reacquainted' thing. But the whole … baby thing is a good excuse. Or maybe just a good aphrodisiac."

"Really?" She raises an eyebrow at me. 

"Yeah … apparently telling him that I want a baby is like the biggest turn-on I could have ever come up with." 

"Well, that's kinda weird." She pauses and seems to think for a moment. "Although I guess not really. I mean, it must be a pretty heady thing. Trying to create a new life and all." 

"Yeah, it's pretty … awesome." I say, for lack of a better description. And maybe that is about the best way to put it. It really is pretty awe-inspiring. 

"So how long has this been going on?" 

"Huh? Oh … uh, since last night." 

"What?" She seems surprised. 

"Yeah. I just told him last night when he got home. And we, uh, got right to work." 

"I see. So, uh, when did _you_ decide?" 

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I've been thinking about it for awhile now. I mean, I know John wants kids. Not that we've ever really talked about it, but I guess I never asked him because I already knew. And he probably never asked me because he knew it was a sensitive subject for me. Or maybe he was afraid of what I would say. Afraid I would tell him that I didn't want kids, ever. There certainly was a time when I felt that way. Well, not that I didn't want it, but that I really shouldn't do it. That I wasn't meant to have children." 

"Because of your mom?" I nod. "But you're not bipolar so …" she shrugs and gives me a questioning look.

"No, but I could still pass it on."

"What are the chances, though? Low, right? I mean, it's gotta be a less than ten percent chance, right?"

"Something like that. But leave it me to bring in that long-shot."

"Well, so what? I mean, it wouldn't be a good thing. But you guys could handle it. Carter's not going anywhere. And besides, you know what to look for, you'd see the signs and get help right away. Being the parent instead of the child means you'd be in charge."

"Yeah, unless it was like with Eric and the symptoms didn't show up until later." 

"How do you know he didn't show signs as a kid? You were just a kid yourself. Your mom was too sick and your dad was gone. So who would notice? But believe me Abby, if it's your child, you would notice. And it won't be easy. It'll hurt. But you just love them so much … I mean, you just have no idea what having a child will teach you about love. And any amount of pain that you suffer is worth it, just for the privilege of having them in your life. And you know that's true from all your years in OB. If the pain isn't worth it, no woman would voluntarily go through that again." 

"Yeah, but this wouldn't be one day of suffering, it would be a whole lifetime. And not just me. John. Our child. I'm still worried that I couldn't handle it." 

"But look at Eric, Abby. I mean, I know how much it hurts you that he's sick. But still, you'd rather have a sick brother, than no brother at all, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Still, my childhood was so messed up. I didn't exactly have the best mother role model, so I worry what kind of mother I'll be. Not to mention the fact I'm an alcoholic. Carter's been through rehab himself. Are we really the best people to be raising a child? I mean, just because it's what I want, is it the right thing? I mean, am I being selfish?"

"Well, when you think about it, most of us have children for selfish reasons. It's not usually for some noble cause. But that's the way it's supposed to be. Nature made sure there would be this natural desire to have children so that the species won't die out."

"Species? Susan, we're human beings, not spider monkeys. And don't we have some responsibility to think through the consequences of our actions?"

"Well, of course. But Abby, the fact that you've thought about this so much, just goes to show what a good parent you'll be. Most people just jump in without a moment's thought. You've already considered the things that can go wrong, but you still want to do it. That you would even think about the bigger picture already puts you ahead of a lot of the other people who are out there breeding. Think of all the people we see at work who really should not be parents, but are. Trust me, you and Carter will be great." 

"I really do hope so. I'm sure he will be great. I think that's part of the reason that I want to do this, in spite of my fears. Because he really should be a father. Every time I see him with kids at work, I just melt. I mean, he's wonderful with them. He always knows just what to say. He's honest, but gentle and treats them with respect. And his face just lights up when he's around kids. I don't want to be the one to hold him back from experiencing that kind of happiness. The kind he could only experience as a father. And what kid wouldn't want him for a dad? Or course that means they get stuck with me for a mom …"

"Abby. Don't start that. In case you haven't noticed, you're pretty great with kids yourself. You'll be just fine." The waitress returns and puts our food down and we are momentarily busy with preparing our burgers and fries. Until Susan gets back to the subject at hand. "So watching Carter in the ER with kids is what made you want to have his baby?" 

"Well, I think that's what got me started thinking about it. But then I started thinking about it more and more. And then there was this whole trip to Guatemala." 

"Ah yes, you're initiation in the to wonderful world of midwifery."

"Yeah, you know, it was different from my days in OB somehow. I was happy, I really was. Carter thinks that I was just basking in all the power and glory. And as much as I loved the fact that I was helping these women in a way no one else really could, that wasn't really what was making me so happy. It was this sense of possibility that I never had in OB. Maybe because then, I was watching all these happy mothers with their new babies and thinking that I would never know that happiness. But in Guatemala, suddenly it seemed like maybe I could have a chance at that happiness too, you know?" She nods to show she's listening while she chomps through her burger, so I continue. 

"I mean, if these women could do it in spite of all their hardships, why couldn't I? You should see the way some of these women live, Susan. I mean, they've got all these kids and no money. They work their fingers to the bone all day. No heat, no electricity, no running water. Not a whole lot of hope for improving their lives. So you would think that bringing another child into the world wouldn't exactly be cause for celebration. And maybe for some of them it wasn't. But most of them seemed incredibly happy and grateful to have a new baby. Even if it meant one more mouth to feed. Even if it meant that much more work for them. It was still a good thing. And I don't know … I guess, I just started to realize that I wanted a chance to experience that kind of joy in my life. On the plane, coming home without Carter, worried that somehow, something would happen to him while we were apart, I just realized how much I wanted to have a child with him. Be a family. And I didn't want to wait anymore." 

"Aww, that's so sweet. I think you made the right decision. Of course, I am going to miss you terribly."

"Miss me?"

"Yeah, when you're home with the baby."

"Oh."

"I mean, I just assumed you'd stay home, at least most of the time. Or are you gonna come back to work?"

"Oh, I … uh, I don't know."

"Well if you do come back, the daycare center is really nice, and then the baby would be close. But maybe you'd rather have a nanny or a baby-sitter. I guess it depends on how much you're working."

"I guess I haven't really thought about it." 

"Or maybe you'll get a job in some cushy doctor's office out in the suburbs, stay close to home."

"Home? Suburbs?" 

"Oh, are you going to get a house in the city? I mean, the school system isn't really all that great, but there are lots of private schools. "

"A house? Schools?"

"Is there an echo in here? I guess you haven't really has a chance to plan any of this yet , huh?" 

"No, I guess not." Plan it? I didn't even realize any of this was stuff I should be thinking about. Maybe I haven't really given this whole thing enough thought. I mean, up until this conversation with Susan, I'd managed to block out and forget about so many of my fears. But suddenly, in spite of her reassurances, and even my own heartfelt explanation about how I came to this decision, I'm feeling a bit unsure. Do I really know what I'm getting myself into? 

"Abby? Are you okay?" She asks. She must have caught the look on my face. 

Before I can answer, the door opens and Carter appears, giving me a big grin. I try my best to smile back. I guess it's good enough because he doesn't comment. Instead he slides into the booth next me and drapes his arm over my shoulder as he gives me a little kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, ladies. Oh, hamburgers. Yum. I hope you ordered one for me." 

"You can have mine. I'm not hungry after all." I say as I push my practically untouched plate towards him.

"What's this? Morning sickness kicking in already? See, I told you, Abby. The virility of the Carter sperm is completely unmatched." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his face turns red, and he glances at Susan. 

She just bursts out laughing. "It's okay, Abby already told me about your little … uh, project." 

"You told her?" He asks me. 

Susan answers for me. "Well, I insisted on knowing why you two were uh …"

"Humping like jackrabbits all day." I supply, somewhat distractedly.

"That's not what I said, Abby."

"It was something like that." I say with a little wave of my hand to indicate that it doesn't really matter anyway.

"Whatever. Anyway, so Abby really had no choice but to tell me." 

"Oh. Jackrabbits?" He gives me an amused look before turning back to Susan. "Well, anyway … good, I'm glad you already know. Otherwise I'd probably be in big trouble, huh Ab?" he gives Susan a wink. I mumble something that must pass for an actual response since they continue chatting with each other. 

"And don't worry, Abby's already warned me not to say anything. So you guys are safe from the rumor mill for now." 

"Speaking of the rumor mill, Susan … what's this I hear about you and Luka?" Carter asks. 

"Me and Luka? I don't know, you tell me. What exactly did you hear?"

"Nothing much. Just that you two have been spending some time together lately. Laughing in the lounge, hanging out here. I think I heard something about a date, last week?"

"Not a date. Coffee. Just coffee."

"Was there pie involved? Maybe hot fudge sundaes? Because then I'm gonna have to go with the whole 'it's a date' thing, right Abby?" He nudges me and I nod in the affirmative. I've heard them, but not really. But I hear exactly what Carter says as he continues. "Oh come on Susan, stop dragging your heels. If you hurry up, maybe our kids can go to school together."

"Kids? Carter, I hate to tell you, but even though in the language that you and Abby share 'coffee and pie' might mean 'sex,' to the rest of the world, it's just a snack. Okay? We had coffee, not sex. So unless you can get pregnant from sharing the same creamer, I won't be having kids anytime soon."

"Coffee and _pie_? See, I told you it was a date."

"No, it wasn't."

"Sure it was. Abby? Don't you think so? Coffee and pie, that's definitely a date, right?" 

"Yeah, sure." For the first time Carter seems to notice how distracted I am. 

"Abby, is everything all right?" he asks. 

"Oh God, you're not upset that we're talking about Luka and I, are you?"

"What? No. Why would I be? If you and Luka have something going, I think that's great."

"Well, we don't."

"Well, you could." Carter counters.

"John Carter, matchmaker extraordinaire. Thanks for the advice."

"Just trying to be helpful."

Suddenly I can't take it anymore. I can't sit here in the corner of this booth, listening to the two of them argue or whatever the hell they are doing while I'm lost in my suddenly confused thoughts. Inexplicably, I feel trapped. It's almost like I can't really breathe. I just need to get out. 

"I gotta go." I say. Carter gives me a puzzled look. "I'm serious, John. Let me out, okay?" 

"Abby, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing." I tell him. "I just … I have to get back and check on a patient. I forgot to hang a new IV for Mr. Johnson, so I'd better go check on him. You stay here, talk to Susan. Eat that burger." He stands up and lets me out of the booth. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and head toward the door. I catch the confused look that he and Susan share, but I keep on going. Out the door, without a single look back. 


	5. Waiting

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea _(CarbyLove@aol.com__)_

Rating: R 

Summary: Previously in this fanfic: Carter returned from saving the world to find that Abby had decided that she wants a baby. Various incidences of possible baby-making ensued. Then Susan showed up and managed to freak Abby out by mention things like schools, daycare, and buying a house. So Abby went into total meltdown mode and streamed out of Doc's like her ass was on fire. Nevermind about how Doc's burned down. This is a couple years down the road, it's obviously been rebuilt by the Carter Family Foundation money as a token of Carter's love for Abby. And some fucked up charitable reason too, I'm sure. 

Author's Note: Yeah, so it's been a while. Do you want speed or quality? The good news is chapter 6 is already underway. So hopefully that one will be up soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Dream Life

__

Chapter 5: Waiting

She said she had to check on a patient. That was the excuse she used for bolting out of Doc Magoo's like the place was on fire. But I saw the look on her face. She looked scared and confused. And somehow I don't think she was biting her lip in worry over whether or not Mr. Johnson's IV had run dry. My first thought had been to run after her. But that's not always the best approach with her. She does hate it when I push her. She told me to stay here. So maybe she just needed some time to sort out whatever it is that's bothering her. Or maybe she really was just worried about the patient. 

I'd asked Susan if she had any idea what it was all about, but she just shrugged. She told me that she and Abby had discussed some of Abby's concerns about having a baby, but that Abby hadn't seemed unduly upset until she announced, in an almost panicked voice, that she had to get back to the hospital. Of course, it was news to me that Abby was still bothered this much by whatever fears she was harboring about becoming a mother. I decided that it was obviously something we needed to talk about. Since I'd suddenly lost my appetite too, I just tossed some money on the table and headed back to the ER, hoping to find Abby. 

Of course, that proved to be difficult. I wouldn't go so far as to say she was avoiding me, but she suddenly seemed to get very busy. Too busy for anything more than the most superficial of exchanges. Once the traumas started rolling in, she had an even better excuse to avoid any prolonged contact with me. Then her shift ended a couple hours before mine, and she came to me only long enough to get the keys for the Jeep so she could do some errands on the way home. Which is how I came to be sitting here on the El now, mulling over the events of the past day. 

Twenty-four hours ago, I was on my way home from Guatemala, thinking about nothing more than how happy I would be to see her again. Babies, aside from the ones Abby had helped to deliver during her stint as a pseudo-midwife, were the farthest thing from my mind. Certainly I wasn't thinking about any potential Carter babies. I really wasn't sure if the day would ever come when I would be contemplating fatherhood beyond the theoretical. I knew when Abby and I got married that this was a difficult issue in her life, and I knew she might not ever get to a point when she would be ready for us to have a baby. I'd always hoped that day would come, but if not, I knew I could live with it. As long as I had her. 

But then I came home last night and got the shock of my life. Abby sitting on my lap, saying those four magic words, "I want a baby." You could have knocked me over with a feather, I was so shocked. Honestly, I think I would have been less shocked to find out she was already pregnant, than to hear her say that she would like to be. Because, I think, in the back of my mind, I always assumed that if was ever going to happen for us, it was just going to happen. A surprise. One that I would welcome, and one that I suspected, when push came to shove, Abby would too. Well, maybe in the beginning she would have been apprehensive, but I figured it wouldn't take long for her to come around and realize how much joy a child could bring to our lives and that, in spite of all the risks, it would be the best thing that could ever happen to us. But here she was, telling me that she'd realized this on her own, without the reality of a pregnancy, that I'd always expected it would take, forcing her to make this decision. Stunned would be a good word to describe how I felt at that moment. 

Thrilled would be another one. Like a dream come true. Something wonderful and completely unexpected. I'm sure I looked at Abby and the depth of my shock was obvious. But I think she also knew how happy she made me. A baby. Our baby. She couldn't ever give me a better gift. The fact that I thought that it might never happen, made the moment that much sweeter. And suddenly I loved her even more. Not just because she was offering to give me something that I've always wanted, but also because I knew that this had to be scary for her. And she was going to do it anyway. And I was proud of her. For being willing to take at a chance at something great, no matter what the risk. And she was doing it for me. For herself. For us. I was happy. She was happy. We made love, tying to create a new life that would be a part of both of us. And it was beautiful. And special. It was like our first time all over again, only even more amazing. And all day today I've been almost giddy at the prospect of becoming a daddy. I spent a good portion of the day thinking about how we may have already gotten pregnant, and the thought, literally, takes my breath away. And of course if it didn't happen already, we'll just have to keep practicing until we manage to get it right. That's certainly a cheerful thought as well. 

Of course after the way Abby was behaving this afternoon, I'm not feeling especially cheerful. Confusion seems to be the reigning emotion of the moment. I'm not exactly sure what's going on in Abby's head, but I figure it can't be good. Mostly, I'm afraid that she won't talk to me about it. If she would just let me in, I think I could help her in some way. I don't blame her for being nervous or worrying about the things that could wrong. I just hope that she's not gonna let her fears get in the way of something that could be absolutely wonderful. And make things better than they've ever been. I really think that having a child, becoming a family, could do wonders for us. Oh, we're doing pretty good on our own, but I can't help but feel that there's something missing. A piece of the puzzle that would bring the bigger picture into focus. Something to give an even deeper meaning to our lives. 

And I can't help but think that a baby would help Abby to shift her perspective and see the world differently. As a happier place, where things don't always go wrong. That's already been happening, slowly, subtly … and I know a child isn't a magic balm to cure Abby's pain, but I think having a baby would go a long way toward bringing her the fulfillment that she wants. And the centeredness that we both need in our lives. Something positive to focus on for once. Something that would give us what I think we may still be searching for -- a family. A happy, normal little family. Of course, no one should have a child to fix problems in their own life, but that's not what this would be. We're dealing with our problems, they don't need to be fixed by some outside source. A child would just enrich our lives and make them even more full. And I really think that we would have a lot to give back to our kids. Love, first and foremost. A happy, comfortable, secure life with parents that not only love each other, but are also best friends. 

So I really think this is the right thing to do. Now I just have to convince Abby of that, since, I suspect, she's having doubts about the wisdom of the decision. But I know it's what she really, truly wants. If I can just find the right words to make her understand that this is exactly what we need in our lives, I'm sure I can reassure her. It's just cold feet. Everyone goes through it. It's no big deal. Maybe it's already blown over by now anyway. 

Suddenly I'm anxious, excited even, to get home to Abby. I'm sure she's probably realized all this on her own this afternoon and by the time I get there, maybe she'll be ready to work on the next round of baby-making. She had some errands to run, but she may be home by now. Maybe I'll walk in the door and find her scantily clad just like last night. I rush off the El and down to the street, hurrying home quickly. I bound up the stairs, happily anticipating the scene that I just sketched out in my mind coming true before my eyes. I open the door expecting things to be just like I imagined them. A happy Abby coming and jumping into my arms, pulling me willingly into a night just like the last. I've convinced myself that this is what's going to happen. 

Wrong. 

Abby's here all right. But she certainly isn't waiting for me. She's not dressed provocatively, and she definitely doesn't come bounding across the room to greet me. In fact, she barely glances up from the groceries that she's putting away in the kitchen. Okay, so she's busy. Maybe I got here sooner than she expected. I'll just play this like everything is okay. And maybe it will be. 

"Hi, baby." I say as I walk into the kitchen and wrap my arms around her. I kiss her check and then rest my head on her shoulder. She doesn't pull away, but unlike this very morning, in this very kitchen, she doesn't exactly melt into me either. Maybe she's just tired. 

"Hey." She says, turning and giving me a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Well, I knew she was probably upset, but I'm sure once we talk it out, she'll be just fine. Probably she's just afraid of how to broach the subject of her fears with me. She still has such a hard time "burdening" me with her problems.

"You tired?" I ask.

She nods. "You?" 

"I'm okay. Not bad for my first day back. Here, let me help you with these." I start unloading the nearest grocery bag. Bread, chips, cereal, condoms. Condoms. I just hold the box in my hand, staring uncomprehendingly. 

"Abby?" She looks up at me. Then she sees the box of condoms in my hand, and her eyes slide away from mine. 

"John, I …" her voice trails off, but it doesn't really matter. What explanation do I really need? You don't use condoms if you're trying to get pregnant. And since I doubt she bought them to hand out on the street or to use in a water balloon fight, the implications are pretty clear. The disappointment is more acute than I realized it would be. There's a lump in my throat, and I feel tears gathering in my eyes. For an instant I'm furious with her. How could she do this to me? Get my hopes up like that, just to dash them? 

But then I look over at her. Standing there, staring blankly into the other room, biting her lip. I see the tears that are in her eyes too. And I know that this, whatever it is, isn't any easier on her. Tossing the box on to the counter, I move to Abby and put my arms around her. At first she stands there stiffly, wanting to refuse the comfort. But when glances up at my face, I see her crumble right before me. She turns in my embrace and wraps her arms around me. She buries her head in my chest and mumbles, "I'm sorry." 

"Oh, Abby …" My voice is soft and broken. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay." 

She shakes her head against my chest. "No, it's not. John, I'm sorry." She says again. "I didn't mean … I just … " 

She can't seem to find the words, but her tears are telling the story. I lead her over to the couch, and we sit down. She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand and after a few shaky breaths, she seems to pull herself together. 

"I wouldn't blame you if you hate me." Her voice is sad and thick with the tears she's stifled. 

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you." I take her hand in mine, interlacing our fingers. 

"You should. I never do anything but disappoint you." 

"That's not true."

"Sure it is. Don't try to tell me you're not disappointed. I saw the look on your face." 

"Of course I'm disappointed, Abby." I look at her tear-stained face, those big brown eyes that look at me with such sadness. "But not in you." She manages a tight little smile, before her eyes move away from mine once again. When she starts talking, it's in a whisper that I can barely hear.

"This isn't how I wanted it to be. I thought I was ready." 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"Not really." 

"Abby. Please? I just want to understand. I mean, last night … this morning … what happened?"

She shrugs. Looks at me. Looks away. "I just wasn't thinking." 

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't thinking about … all the practical stuff. I was just caught up in this fantasy. This romantic little fantasy about you and me and baby makes three. And they live happily ever after. I forgot things aren't that simple." 

"They could be."

"Not for me." She shakes her head for emphasis.

"Oh, Abby … not this again. I thought we were past that whole doom and gloom thing." 

"It's not gloom and doom, John. I didn't say it would be terrible. I said it's not simple. There's a difference between reality and fantasy. And the reality is … having a baby is more than just having a baby. There are so many things to think about. And I haven't thought about any of them. Work, schools, a house. This afternoon at lunch, Susan rattled off questions about all of that stuff, right off the top of her head, and I realized I hadn't considered any of it. There's a lot I haven't considered. And I lot more that I tried to forget. But just ignoring my fears and the risks isn't going to make them go away." 

"Abby, I know you're scared. But all first time parents are scared. You'd be crazy not to be. You just can't let it stop you. And I know you have special concerns that don't apply to everyone else, but I thought, when you told me that you wanted a baby, that you'd worked through those."

"I thought I had too." 

"And then one conversation with Susan changed everything?"

"No, of course not. It wasn't just that. It's just that when I was talking to her, suddenly I remembered all the things that had always made me think that I shouldn't be a mother in the first place. My crazy family, my screwed up childhood … and when Susan started asking me about all this stuff as if I should have already thought about it, I started wondering if maybe we'd rushed into this. We didn't talk about this. We haven't made any kind of plans."

"But Abby, we've got time to do all that. You said yourself it'll probably take some time until we get pregnant. And even once it happens, we'll still have nine months to figure out the details." 

"Yeah, but don't you think we should consider some of this stuff before we decide to have a baby?" 

"Only if you there's a chance you're gonna change your mind." She gets up and walks across the room to stare out the window. "But I guess that's already happened, huh?" 

She shrugs, then turns to look at me. "I just think maybe we rushed into things, that's all. Maybe we just need some time … maybe _I_ just need some time to make sure this is the right thing to do." 

"But if it's what we want …" 

"That doesn't necessarily mean it's for the best. Is it fair to bring a child into the world, just because it's what we want?"

"Well … yeah. I mean, Abby, this is a child that would be wanted, that would be loved. How is that unfair? Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" 

"But what if I can't do it?" 

"Do what?"

"Be a good enough mother. Love my child enough. Make sure my child knows how much I love it. This whole interpersonal relationships thing isn't exactly my strong suit, you know. I mean, look how many times my inability to share my feelings came between us. What if, no matter how much I love the baby, I can't ever find a way to let the baby know?"

"Abby, that's not going to happen." She's biting her lip and looking at me circumspect from across the room. 

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, for one thing, it's a baby. And the love between a mother and child is one of the simplest, purest loves there is. It's uncomplicated. It's unconditional. The baby will love its mommy no matter what. And you'll fall in love with your child. What's the risk in that?"

"There's always risk."

"But don't you think it's worth it?" 

"Maybe for us. But what about for our kids? What if we screw them up in some fundamental way?"

"Gee, you have a lot of faith in us, don't you?"

"I just realized that there are so many ways that things can wrong. What if they all go wrong?"

"I can't guarantee you that nothing will go wrong. In fact, probably the only thing I can guarantee you is that _something_ will go wrong. But I think we can handle it. Together. We won't let things fall apart. We just won't let that happen." I really believe that. If we want this enough, and I think we do -- I know that I do -- I'm sure we can work through any of the obstacles that are guaranteed to come along. If I could just get her to trust me on that. If there was just a way to make her see that things really will be okay. As long as we have each other. 

"I'm sure that's what everyone thinks. But things go wrong. It happens all the time. And we see the evidence of it every day. Today was no exception." Ah, so maybe something happened this afternoon at work. If I can convince her it was all just a fluke, maybe … 

"So it was something that happened with a patient that's got you so upset?" She comes back over and flops down on the couch, despair written all over her. 

"It's not just one thing. I mean, it started with my conversation with Susan. It made me realize that all my old fears are still with me. Maybe not as strong as before, but they haven't exactly disappeared either. And I think the thing I'm most afraid of is being a bad mother. So when Susan asked me about all those things I hadn't even thought about, it freaked me out. I mean, what kind of responsible parent am I going to be if it hasn't even occurred to me that having a baby is going to change our whole lives? "

"But everything isn't going to change overnight. We'll have plenty of time to adjust. And you're gonna be a great mother."

"Am I? What if I can't handle it, and I fall apart?"

I reach out and take her hand. "I won't let that happen." 

"What if you can't stop it? I'm sure no one thinks they're going to be a bad parent, but I saw nothing but evidence of bad parenting all afternoon. Maybe I was oversensitive to it after talking to Susan and realizing all over again all the risks … but it just seemed like everywhere I turned there was another example of a great way to screw up your kid. First there was the mother who thought it was appropriate to leave her two-year-old alone while she went to the corner store for some beer. And the kid comes in with a concussion from God knows what kind of injury. Not to mention that the poor kid looked like he hadn't had a bath or a decent meal in weeks, or maybe months."

"You're not really worried that you're gonna go out and forget to take the kids with you are you? Or forget to wash and feed them?"

"No. But … it wasn't just that. Remember the little boy with broken ankle?"

"Sure. Cute kid."

"Yeah. His brother brought him in."

"Yeah, he said he was baby-sitting or something?" 

"Uh-huh, except it's Monday and he should have been in school. So I pressed him a little bit about it. Asked if one of his parents could come stay with the little brother so he could get back to school." 

"And?" 

"And it turns out Dad's a drunk who doesn't come home much anymore. And Mom's 'sick' -- whatever that means-- and stays in bed all day. My God, John, it was Eric and I all over again. And I just don't ever want to put another child through what I went though."

"You wouldn't. Abby …" I trail off, finding it hard to believe that she's done such a complete turn around. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was sure she wanted a child. Now it seems that every fear she's ever had, large or small is looming over her. I want to think this is just a colossal case of cold feet. But I worry that there's more to this than just the usual fear that comes with making any major life change. 

"No, " she says. "Not as long as I'm sober. But it's not like I've never fallen off the wagon before. And I know all too well what's it like to come home and find your mom passed out on the couch. I couldn't do that to my child. "

"So don't. Don't let it happen. It happened before, but it's not gonna happen again. You can make sure of that Abby. It's up to you. And if you have reason enough to stay sober, you will." 

"Yeah, that's what I told myself when I started considering this. And with a child, I'd have even more reason to stay sober. And believe me, I intend to. But even without falling off the wagon, there are all kinds of other ways to mess it up. You've said it yourself before, we've got all this baggage. What if we get too caught up in our own problems to give the kids the attention they need?"

"We wouldn't do that. You know the kids would come first. No matter what."

"I'm sure that's what the parents of the girl who attempted suicide thought too." 

"Attempted suicide? Today?"

"Yeah, the fifteen-year-old from the MVA -- stole her parents car and 'accidentally' drove into that tree. Turns out it was no accident. At first I thought she did it just to get their attention, which is sad enough. But it's worse. It was a serious attempt. She really thought they'd be better off without her. Said she was just a 'burden' … she saw no reason to live and couldn't imagine that she'd be missed."

I'm at a loss for words. I really don't know what to say to her to make her understand that things won't be like this with us. Sure, we've had are problems in the past, but we've always gotten through it. Yes, there was a time when I was afraid our baggage would weigh us down and rip us apart. But we're long since past that. I don't have any doubts that we are settled and stable enough to raise a happy, healthy child. Be a happy, healthy family. 

"Abby, I just don't understand why you think everything is going to go wrong all of a sudden. Yesterday … hell, even this morning, this is what you wanted -- what we both wanted -- more than anything. Or so I thought. And now, a couple of patients with messed up lives and suddenly you decide having a baby is a bad idea?"

"I didn't say it's a bad idea. Or that I don't want it. I do want it. I just need some time to make sure that it's the right thing. I just need some time to think things through. Maybe in a couple months …" She's pulled away from me again, drawing in on herself. I feel the frustration mounting because I don't understand what she's thinking. She says she wants to start a family with me, only not right now? 

"What's time going to do, Abby?"

"I don't know. I'm just … confused. Maybe if I can think about it for a while, I can figure it out." 

"Maybe you'll just think about all the things that could go wrong and talk yourself out of ever having kids." 

"Maybe I will. But if I do, then maybe that's for the best. I'm sorry I didn't think of all this before I said anything to you. Before we … but I guess it's better I figured this out now rather than later. Because I don't know what I would have done if … I mean, I just couldn't --" She stops abruptly mid-sentence. She looks at me with a note of alarm crossing her face before she quickly looks away. Almost like she was going to say something, but caught herself just in time. When she starts speaking again, I get the feeling there's something she's leaving out. "It's just, for a while there, I managed to somehow ignore all the bad stuff. But I was being stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. We can't just jump into this kind of thing. And maybe we shouldn't do it at all. God knows if we do, I'll find a way to screw it up." 

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I always do. I always mess up everything somehow."

"Not 'us.'"

"Well, 'we' are the exception." 

"Wouldn't the baby just be an extension of 'us?'" I ask hopefully. 

"Only with a whole new set of rules. And with so much more at stake. I just … I don't want a child to suffer for my failures." 

"What makes you so sure you'd fail?" She doesn't answer, just hugs her knees her to chest. Turning inward even more. I have no idea what's going on, but I can sense the tension. I can see it in her body. She's practically wrapped herself into a ball in the corner of the couch. Her eyes are big and glistening with unshed tears. I want to reach out and touch her, but there's something about her self-protective position that holds me back. "Abby?" I speak gently, unsure of exactly what's responsible for this latest change in her mood. "I really do think you'd be a wonderful mother. You're such a nurturer, Abby. You'd be a natural. I don't think you'd mess it up at all. What makes you think you'd fail as a mother?"

She looks at me so long that I don't think she going to answer. When the words finally do come, her voice is soft and sad, just above a whisper, "I already did." 

The tears slip slowly down her cheeks. She looks at me a moment more, before she buries her head in her arms. I watch her crying in anguish, hugging herself tightly and rocking slightly as if to provide herself some comfort. I sit motionless, unsure of what to do. Not only am I unsure if my touch would bring her any comfort right now, I'm not even sure I understand what she's talking about. Already failed as a mother? How? She can't possibly be talking about Eric can she? I know that in a lot of ways she was the one who really raised him, but she's _not_ his mother. 

"Abby, are you talking about Eric? Because you didn't fail him. You did the best you could. And you were just a kid yourself. I know how much you were like a mother to him, but he's your brother, not your child."

"I'm not talking about Eric." That same heartbroken voice. 

"Well, then …" I'm sure she can hear the confusion when I speak.

"I … I was … I was pregnant, once." Pregnant? What? When? Why didn't she ever tell me about this? And she feels like a failure? A miscarriage? And she thinks it her fault? She's staring straight ahead, the tears still trailing down her cheeks. She doesn't look at me. Refuses to look at me. "I had an abortion." 

She says the word tentatively, like it's something dirty, shameful. An abortion? Abby? Abby who spent all those years in OB? Abby whose face lights up when there are kids in the room? Abby who obviously wants to be a mother so badly that, at least for a little while there, she was willing to risk all the things she's scared of most? This doesn't make any sense. Except maybe it does. If her fears are this pronounced now, what must they have been like then? It's only recently that she's seemed to be able to see the happier side of things, and therefore been more willing to take some risks. On me. On us. On our marriage. And she's so much better now than she was in the beginning of our relationship. And if the thought of having child freaks her out now, what would it have done to her back then? And then a chill runs through me. When? Was it … mine? Surely she wouldn't have kept something like that from me. Would she? 

"I know I should have told you sooner. But it's not exactly the kind of thing that comes up in conversation. And you never really seemed especially interested in talking about the downfall of my first marriage so …"

"It was ... when you were married to Richard?"

She nods slowly. Still she doesn't look at me. But she does keep talking. "He doesn't know. I never told him. I knew there was no way I could do it …and … and I didn't think he'd even want it. And I just felt so alone. And I was terrified. So … I sacrificed my child to allay my fears. See? Some good mother I am. Mothers are supposed to protect their children. I aborted mine, for my own good. I don't know why I think I deserve another chance." 

"But Abby, you didn't do anything wrong. You made a choice. The only choice you could have made, right?"

"I thought so at the time. I mean, it just seemed like such a bad idea, you know?" Her voice is still a little weak and raspy, but getting stronger as she goes on. "There was still a chance that I could have become bipolar. What if having a baby pushed me over the edge? Or what if the kid was sick? I really couldn't imagine Richard sticking around either way. I mean, already the marriage had its problems. Bringing a child into it wasn't going to make things any better. And I could just see myself, a few years down the road, alone, struggling to take care of a child on my own when the phone rings. And it's Maggie. And she needs to be rescued again. And now I've got a mother that needs me to take care of her, a kid that needs me to take care of him, and it's up to me to take care of everything. And I didn't think I was strong enough. Assuming, of course, that I wasn't sick myself." 

"So you did what you had to do, considering the circumstances." 

"I guess. Still …" 

"Come here." I pull her over to me and she settles against my chest, with a sigh. "Look Abby, if you'd done things differently then, you probably wouldn't be sitting here with me now. Your life would've gone in a different direction one way or the other. So maybe it was what had to happen." 

"You're suggesting it was fate, or God, or some divine force that pre-destined it so that you and I would end up together." Her voice is dripping with skepticism, but I prefer that to the teary sadness. 

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. But you have to admit, if things had happened differently, you probably wouldn't have ended up in the ER with me. You wouldn't have been there to catch me shooting up in the trauma room. Our eyes wouldn't have locked across a crowded AA meeting …"

"So you do think it was fate." 

"Well, I do think we're meant to be together. Has everything in our lives been leading us to each other? I don't know. But I do know that you can't go back and change the past, so you might as well find the silver lining."

"And you're my silver lining?" 

"Yeah. Me … and the babies that_ we_ could have. Maybe you were never meant to have Richard's baby, maybe you were meant to have mine." 

She looks up at me, and dubious expression on her face. "Well, if that was fate's way of bringing us together, I have to say, it really sucks."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you had to go through that kind of pain. That you had to go through it alone." She shrugs against me, as if to say it was no big deal. I wish I could have been there to help to her through it. Of course, that's stupid, because if I'd been there … well, like I told her, there's no changing the past. But I understand more clearly, now, why this is so complicated for her. I always knew she worried about passing on Maggie's disease. I thought her other fears were the same fears any potential parent would face. But now I realize just how deep those fears go. And I realize that it's even more complicated than that. Abby's not just struggling to work through her fears, but also to get past this layer of guilt or regret for a decision she made a long time ago. I wish I could make her see that that was then and this is now. "You have every right to ask for another chance at motherhood. If that's what you want. You don't have anything to feel guilty about, you know."

"Yeah. Except that Richard, apparently _did_ want kids. And I denied him that." 

"And you denied yourself, too."

"Yeah." Clearly she's not convinced.

"Look, Abby, if you could back and do it all over again, knowing what you know now, would you make the same decision?"

"I don't know." She stops for a moment. I run my hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe and relax her as best I can. "Maybe. Probably. I mean, I know my life would have been different if I'd … had that baby. And I wouldn't want to take a chance on not being here with you, today. And no matter what, everything that's happened with my mom and Eric these past couple of years still would have happened. I wouldn't have wanted a to drag a child through that. And I don't know what kind of a mother I would have been then, anyway. Or exactly how I would have juggled it all."

"So see? It was the right decision."

She shrugs again. "I guess. But if having a baby wasn't the right thing then, what's makes you think it would be the right thing now?"

"Because you're not alone now. You have me. You have 'us.' And you're a different person than you were then. You're not scared and miserable. You're not fragile and alone. You're stronger now. You've grown. And I would never leave you or our kids. No matter what. Even if our child was sick. Especially if our child was sick. Even though that's a pretty slim chance, if it did happen, we'd be sure to get the best treatment possible and somehow, we'd be okay. So you see, the circumstances of your life are totally different now. If a baby is what you want, there's no reason you shouldn't have one. You don't have to keep on punishing yourself for doing what you felt was right. Don't you think you've suffered enough already?"

"I think my years in OB took care of that."

"Oh, God, I didn't think about that. How could you stand it? All those years …"

Another shrug, as she looks up at me, "I felt like it was my penance, I guess. Watching all those happy mothers with their new babies. Knowing it was something I would never have. Of course, sometimes I would watch them writhing in pain and try to convince myself that it was a good thing that I didn't have to go through that. And it wasn't exactly torture all the time, it was fun too. And a chance to be a part something wonderful. Even if it was sort of a … bittersweet reminder … you know, of what I'd never have."

"But it doesn't have to be like that Abby. You _can_ have it."  


"I know." She sits up and turns to face me. Reaches out to lay her hand against my cheek. "I know. And there's a part of me that wants that more than anything. To have our baby. But there's this other part of me that thinks that it's totally unfair."

"Unfair? Unfair to who? Richard? A child that doesn't exist?" She pulls her hand away abruptly, a hurt look on her face, and I realize that my voice has revealed a layer of anger that I didn't even realize was there. Her head falls forward as the tears begin to fall once more. Immediately, I'm ashamed of my outburst. But I recognize, all of the sudden, that there is a part of me that's angry because she doesn't seem to be considering my feelings in the matter. Still, I feel a jerk for making her cry. I expect her to pull away from me when I reach out to her, but she doesn't. She lets me pull her back into my arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so … harsh. It's just that … well, it seems to me that the only person you're being unfair to is yourself." 

"And you." I guess she is thinking about me after all. She looks up at me, wiping away the tears. "That's the worst part of it. I … I don't want to be what stands between you and something you want so much." 

"But you want it too. Don't you?" 

She nods. "But I don't want to do it for the wrong reasons." 

"The wrong reasons? It's not an experiment in genetic engineering, so what do you mean, 'the wrong reasons?'"

"I don't want to do it just because I'm afraid of disappointing you again. And I don't want to do it for some selfish reason. "

"Well, I think it's always a little bit selfish. People have kids because it's what they want. You can't consult the potential children, so you just have to hope that they'll be glad to have been born." 

"But I don't want to have a baby to make up for …"

"The abortion?"

She's biting her lip and looking down at her hands, resting in her lap. I think she's trying to decide whether or not to say what she's thinking. "Yeah. How can I be sure that I'm doing this for the right reasons? There's a part of me that's felt … empty. You know, ever since the abortion. Not that it consumes my life or anything, but it just feels like something is missing." 

"I know what you mean. But maybe that emptiness doesn't come from any unresolved feelings about the abortion. Maybe it's just your desire to be a mother. And what's missing is a child for you to love and care for, to watch as she grows up. And if you're wishing you had that in your life already, and you're beating yourself up for giving up the opportunity that you had, well that's only going to make you feel worse. But there's nothing either of us can do to change the past. So we just have to go forward. We can't bring back the child that might have been, but there is something that can fill up that emptiness."

"A baby?"

"Yeah, a baby. I could give you a baby. You could make me a daddy. We could be a family."

"But I don't want to rush into having a baby just to fill up that emptiness. I just don't want to do it … to fix things. My mother had me and thought I would make everything right in her world. That's too much responsibility to put on a little kid."

"But we wouldn't be doing that. We're not trying to make ourselves healthy, or fix a failing marriage, or make up for other deficits in our lives. The only deficit we're trying to make up for is the missing piece of a child to love. And to share our lives with. And I think we're ready. Even if it's not something we've talked about, obviously it's something we've both considered. 

"And I don't think you're rushing into anything as some sort of reaction to the abortion all these years later. I'm sure that experience is part of what makes you want a baby now. Now that you're ready. But every other past experience contributes too. 

"We both grew up in somewhat dysfunctional families, and maybe that's part of what makes us want kids. To try and get it right with our own kids. To finally be a part of happy family. And I don't know if that's a good reason to want children. But what does matter so long as we _want_ the baby. If the child is going to be wanted, and loved, and well taken care of … And I know that it would bring us so much happiness."

"That's what scares me."

"Happiness?"

"Of loving someone that much. So much that just being around them makes you happy. And being without them makes you miserable. It's bad enough that that's how it is with you. And it took me long enough to be willing to risk it with you. If we have a baby, it's twice as much risk." 

"But it's worth it, don't you think? If we don't take the risk, we're guaranteed to be … maybe not miserable, but not exactly happy either. Because something will always be missing." 

She nods, as if in agreement. We fall into silence, both lost in our own thoughts. I'm happy that we've talked this out, and at least I understand what she's thinking, what she's feeling. And I'm hopefu1 that maybe I've made some headway with her. Maybe she'll see that even though there are risks, the rewards far outweigh them. 

It's Abby that finally breaks the silence. "But if we want it that much, we'll still want it in six months, right?" Six months? What happened to a couple months? I can't help but sigh deeply, thinking that six months is going to turn into six years and then it'll just never happen for us. She must register my disappointment. She looks up at me with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, John. I know you want this. I know you want it now. And I thought I did too. But I'm just not ready. I just need some time. I know that waiting is hard. But …. Please?"

"Okay, we'll wait." What else can I say, really? So I'll wait. But waiting is going to be hard. Waiting to see Abby round and full from our child growing inside her. Waiting to feel those little kicks against her stomach. Waiting to see what our child looks like. Waiting to hold our baby in my arms and watch her grow. Waiting to be a daddy. It's gonna be hard. But this isn't the first time I've waited for Abby. Last time, it was worth it. I just hope it will be this time too. "I'll wait as long as you need me to." 

"Thank you." Her voice is soft and sad as she extricates herself from me and the couch. She stands over me a minute, giving me a sad little smile before she turns and walks into the bedroom, quietly but firmly shutting the door behind her. 


	6. Change of Heart

__

Title: A Dream Life 

Author: Andrea _(CarbyLove@aol.com__)_

Rating: R

Summary: Previously in this fic: Carter came home, Abby wanted a baby, sex sex sex, Abby freaked out, she and Carter talked about her fears, yadda yadda yadda. This time? Well, you just have to read it to find out. 

Author's Note: See? I told you this one would be up fast. It might have been up faster, but *someone* had to write a term paper or something. But thanks for the interactive editing, anyway, Cath. So yeah, chapter 7 is already started … so hopefully that one will be up soon too. 

~~~~~

A Dream Life

__

Chapter 6: Change of Heart

"You look exhausted." Well that makes sense, I feel exhausted. I didn't know it was showing so obviously though. I slam my locker shut, and turn to talk to her before heading for home. 

"Thanks, Susan. You look especially bedraggled yourself." She just laughs. 

"I'm serious. You look like you haven't slept in a month."

"Ugh. I feel like I haven't slept in a month." She gives me a wicked little grin. "What?" I ask her.

"Nothing. I guess Abby's just been keeping you up all night, huh? Those baby-making duties are tough, huh? But if you think this is bad, wait until you actually manage to get her pregnant." 

"Well, I don't think that's gonna happen for a while." 

"Oh, come on, don't get discouraged. You've been trying all of what? A month? These things take time." 

"That's not what I mean. Abby didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? Oh my God, she's not pregnant already is she? But you just said --" 

"Ha. Not hardly. No, it seems Abby had a little change of heart." 

"About having a baby?" 

"Yeah, she decided that maybe we weren't ready. That she needed some time." 

"When did this happen? I mean, she seemed excited about it when she told me you guys were trying." Susan's face is full of concern.

"A couple weeks ago. Pretty much right away. No sooner had we started trying than she just went berserk, and decided it was all a bad idea. At least for right now." 

"Oh God, Carter. I'm sorry. You must be disappointed."

"Yeah. I can handle the waiting. I'm not happy about it, but if she's not ready, I don't want to push her into anything. But what I really hate is what's happened to Abby and I in the meantime." 

Susan just gives me a questioning look.

"Things have just been … weird. Strained, maybe. It's like we're living two completely separate lives under the same roof. It seems like we barely speak to each other. Working different shifts lately hasn't really helped, but even when we are together, it's like we don't know where to start. I don't know …" 

I trail off, because I'm not really sure how to describe the breach between Abby and I these past couple of weeks. It's not that I'm mad at her. I guess I'm just disappointed. At first, I was probably the one keeping my distance from her a little bit. But now I think I'm starting to accept that it might be a long wait before start trying for a baby again, and maybe that's for the best. So I'm not really harboring any resentment about it. I'd rather wait and have it be the right time than pressure Abby into something she's not sure she's ready for. But by now, I think Abby's convinced that I am disappointed in _her_ and probably back to thinking that I should, and probably do, hate her. Nothing could be farther from the truth, but try convincing her of that. 

"Well, don't worry too much. I'm sure you guys will work it out. You always do. And in the meantime … you know, sometimes accidents happen." She winks at me, making sure I know she's joking. 

"Well, these days it would require an immaculate conception." Considering the fact that some days we are barely speaking, intimacy has been nonexistent. Unlike in that brief time when we were trying to get pregnant, and I couldn't keep my hands off her, I'm not really interested these days. It might have something to do with the fact that every time I catch sight of that box of condoms, I find myself cringing. A reminder of what might have been. But now, I fear, might never happen. 

"Oh. Sorry." 

"Yeah. Thanks, I--" 

"Susan? You ready?" At that moment, Luka opens the door to the lounge and sticks his head in. Obviously anxious to collect Susan for … a date maybe? 

"Yeah, I'll be right there." Luka nods and shuts the door, apparently waiting for her in the hallway. 

"So Susan … what's this? A date?"

"Dinner." 

"Sounds like a date to me."

"I'll let you know." She calls as she heads out the door. Whatever that means. Ah, but a little bit of gossip is always fun. Abby should enjoy hearing this. Assuming she hasn't constructed some way to avoid me all night. Her shift ended early in the afternoon, and she's been home for hours. Plenty of time to have undertaken some very important project like cleaning out the closet or the fridge or the medicine cabinet. All jobs that apparently require her undivided attention all night long.

By the time I get home, I've decided that it's time for us to start talking to each other again. So whatever task she's in the middle of tonight, it's just going to have to wait. I know I might not have been exactly affectionate in those first couple days after Abby's change of heart, but if she's punishing me for that now, I think it's time to stop. It's been more than three weeks of polite but shallow conversation and heavy silences and sleeping with our backs turned to each other. I've had to give up fatherhood, at least for the moment, but I'm not giving my marriage too. I miss her. I don't want to lose her over this. 

I open the door fully expecting to hear the sound of vacuum cleaner blaring. Or to find Abby rearranging the kitchen cabinets. Instead it's dark and quiet. The windows are providing the only light in the room, but with the daylight fading, the room in bathed in shadows. It doesn't look like Abby's home. But there's no note on the table or stuck to the fridge. I feel a vague stirring of worry, but I brush it off as I head into the bedroom and then beyond to the bathroom. It's only in the glow of the bathroom light as I return to the bedroom, that I spot a familiar shape. Abby, stretched out on the bed, under the covers. To all appearances sound asleep. And here it is not even 8 p.m. 

I strip down to my boxers and t-shirt and carefully ease down on to the bed. I slip under the covers and prop myself up on my elbow. She's so beautiful when she's asleep. She's beautiful all the time, really, but especially when she's sleeping with a relaxed little smile on her face. Like right now. All the tension and worry gone. I reach out and smooth back her hair softly. Oh, Abby. I just wish she could see herself the way I see her. She's so perfect, and she has no idea. And when I see her like this, so vulnerable, so fragile, I just want to protect her. And, as always, I want to make her happy. God, I love her. No matter what. Anything I have to give up, she's worth it. And whatever it takes, I want to fix this breach between us. 

I lean over and kiss her lightly on her soft lips. She doesn't even stir. For a brief moment, I'm reminded of the last time I found her so deeply asleep like this. Passed out in a drunken stupor. But I don't think she'd do that again so I push that thought away. But then I'm worried that maybe she's sick. I lay my hand on her forehead to make sure she doesn't have a fever, and find her head nice and cool. At the touch of my hand to her face, her eyelids flutter open. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus, but then she give me a big, if sleepy, smile. 

"Hi," she says in a voice still heavy with sleep. 

"Hi." 

I'm about to apologize for waking her from her nap when she rolls over and curls up against my chest, her eyes closing again as she immediately goes back to sleep. I lie back against the pillow making myself more comfortable. As I move, she moves with me. I've rolled from my side onto my back, and now Abby is sprawled on top of me, my chest her pillow, her arms wrapped around me. Apparently I'm more comfortable to lie on than the actual mattress or pillows. It's only a little hard to breathe, but it's been so long since we've had this kind physical closeness, I don't really care. Oxygen -- who needs it? I wrap my arms tightly around her. I've missed this. Just holding her in my arms like this. 

I'm a little surprised that the wall that's been between us these past few weeks seems to have suddenly crumbled. But that may be just a function of having caught her with her defenses down. All sleepy and vulnerable and not thinking straight probably. I better enjoy this while I can, who knows what will happen when she wakes and starts thinking clearly? Of course, as Susan noticed, and then pointed out so subtly in the lounge, the tension in this place is starting to take it's toll. And lying here with my arms around her, I feel relaxed for the first time since the night I got back from Guatemala. I feel her peaceful breathing, steady against my chest. And as much as I want to stay awake and enjoy this, I feel my eyes getting heavy … 

My eyes open slowly and I find her lying on the pillow next to mine, just looking at me, a bemused smile on her face. 

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." She says with a bigger smile spreading across her face as she stretches, arms over her head, pointed toes beneath the sheet. "Hmm." She sighs contentedly before slipping her arms over my head and resting her head on my shoulder, using me as her pillow again. Well now, this is definitely odd behavior. Okay, who is this and where's my wife? 

"You feeling okay, Ab?" 

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" She sounds almost alarmed. 

"No reason. It's just … well, we haven't exactly been dripping with affection these past couple of weeks. But here you are, all wrapped around me." 

"Oh, is that all?" She sounds kind of relieved. "But if it bothers you, I can go in the other room."

"Don't even think about it. Stay right here." 

"Good. Because I'd hate to think that I can't even hug my own husband." I slip my arms around her waist, hugging her back. And I realize that I missed one very salient fact earlier. I peek under the sheet, and sure enough, she's wearing nothing but her birthday suit. She doesn't normally sleep in the buff, so I give her questioning look. 

"Oh." She says, following my eyes. "Yeah. I took a bath when I got home from work. And I _was _going to put on some clothes and make some dinner. But I was so tired, and the bed was calling my name, so I just kinda crashed"

"Mm-hmm." I lean over and find a spot on her neck to kiss. I move my lips lightly down to her shoulder. She tilts her head to the side automatically, and her hands are suddenly at the back of my head, running through my hair. Did I say I wasn't interested in this lately? I guess that's all changed. Maybe it has something to do with finding her naked in our bed. Maybe it's that for once she made overtures at me. But whatever it is, suddenly I don't care if this is going to be purely recreational. I don't even mind the thought of the box of condoms in the bedside table. I roll her over onto her back and lift my head from her neck, searching for her lips. It's a long, slow kiss. A welcome comfort. Something else that I didn't realize how much I've missed in this past couple weeks of chaste and perfunctory pecks. My hands slide up from her waist, seeking out her breasts. But I've barely made contact when she pulls her lips from mine, sucking in a sharp breath of air. She pushes my hands away. Gently, but firmly.

"John, wait. We have to talk." Well yeah, I agree. We definitely have to talk. But there's time for that later. Right now, there are other things to attend to. I seek out her lips again. She resists for moment before giving into another deep kiss. After a moment though, she pulls back, putting her hands on either side of my face, holding me there. "We have to talk. There's something I want to tell you. "

"Ugh." I fall back on the pillow. Turn my head to look at her. "This better be important." 

"It is." The somber note in her voice alerts me. Sounds like something's up. 

"Is something wrong? Is it your mom?" 

"No. I just talked to Maggie, she's fine." 

"Eric?"

"No. He's … okay."

"Well good. This isn't about something silly is it? You're not gonna just tell me that you burned dinner, are you?"

"I didn't even make dinner." 

"Did you put a dent in my Jeep?"

"You had the Jeep today."

"Oh no. You killed the fish."

"We don't have any fish." 

"Well not now that you killed them."

"John --"

"The dog ran away?"

"We don't have a dog, either."

"Did you sleep with the milkman again?"

"We don't have a milkman! That must be your_ other_ wife you're thinking of." 

"Are you pregnant?" 

I say it purely as a joke. But, of course, it's a stupid thing to joke about considering how sensitive the subject is these days. I expect her to tense up, to clam up, to get all mad. Or to burst into tears. Instead she's just regarding me carefully, biting her lip a little but not really giving anything away. 

"Abby?"

Silence. 

"Abby?" She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. Looks at me with a strange expression on her face. A cross between bemusement and worry. 

"I'm late." 

Late? Late. Late! In the instant that my brain makes the connection, I feel a surge of excitement run through me. A warm, tingling feeling that starts in the pit of my stomach and radiates out. It's strong enough to make me feel a bit light-headed. Oh my God. I feel the smile start to spread across my face as Abby starts speaking again.

"Before you get all excited and start picking out baby names and rushing out to buy a crib, you should know that it's probably just a false alarm."

"Or you're pregnant." 

"Yeah. But you know I just stopped taking The Pill last month. My body is probably just screwed up because of it. Irregular periods, skipped periods, no periods for months at a time -- that's not at all uncommon in the first year after stopping The Pill. That could be all it is." 

"Or you could be pregnant." 

"Yeah." 

"So you haven't taken a test yet?" 

"No." She lies back against the pillows, looks over at me. I suspect my mouth is still hanging open while I try to absorb this. "I wanted to tell you first. But I didn't want to tell you until I was … significantly late."

"So how late are you?" I do some quick calculations in my head. "A week? A little more than a week?" 

"Something like that." I'm heartened by the fact that she doesn't seem especially upset. Of course, I realize that could be because she doesn't really think she's pregnant. And maybe she isn't. 

"Do you … _feel _pregnant?" 

She gives me a look. Raises one eyebrow. "What do you mean? Like, is my uterus sending me telepathic signals or something?"

"No, like are you experiencing any symptoms that might indicate that you're pregnant? You know, nausea, vomiting, cravings, insomnia, exhaustion?"

"Swollen ankles, a sore back, and frequent urination? John, _if_ I'm pregnant, I'm like 3 minutes pregnant, I don't think I'd necessarily have _every_ symptom right now." 

"Well, do you have any of them? Feeling queasy at all?" I suddenly remember the look on her face as we were eating our eggs this morning. "You were kinda green at breakfast today."

"I think that was just because I was grossed out from watching you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs." 

"It never bothered you before." 

"It always bothers me."

"Well, it never made you lose your appetite before." 

"I don't usually have to smell it." 

"It smells good. It smells like an omelet."

"It smells like warm ketchup on eggs …" she shudders at the thought. "You know what? Can we just stop talking about it?"

"Why ? Is it making you sick?" I sound a little too gleeful at the thought. She gives me a dirty look. "Okay, no more food talk. But you know, I did come home and find you sound asleep at 7:30 at night. After a half shift, wasn't it? Any particular reason you're so tired? See? That's two down. First the eg-- you know what. And I'd say falling asleep in middle of the afternoon and sleeping all evening sounds like exhaustion." 

"Well, I maybe I just didn't sleep very well last night." 

"Insomnia?" 

"Shut up." She crosses her arms and gives me another dirty look, but I don't think she's really mad. I can see the beginnings of a smile, under her frosty exterior. She still thinks I'm cute. As I look at her, another thought occurs to me. 

"Are your breasts sore?"

"What?" 

"Well, before … you know, you sort of pulled away. Thought maybe it's because they're sore." She doesn't answer, just looks at me. "So are they?"

"Maybe. Kinda." My turn to give her the old one-raised-eyebrow look. "Okay! Yeah, they're sore. So what?" 

"Swollen?"

"What?"

"Are they swollen?" Before she has a chance to answer, I yank the sheet away. 

"Hey, give me my sheet back!" She reaches for it, exposing the objects of inquiry.

"Well, I don't know … I think they look a bit swollen to me." 

"Ha. Wishful thinking." I don't know if she means that I'm wishing she's pregnant or wishing her boobs would swell up. Either way, I figure it's best to just ignore that remark. 

"I don't know Abby. I think you'd better face it … these sound like pregnancy symptoms to me. If you were a patient … Exhaustion, queasiness, sore breasts … moodiness." She tosses me another look, but doesn't say anything. "Sounds like 'pregnant' to me." 

"Or PMS." 

"Only more intense?"

"Maybe."

"Textbook description of early pregnancy. All those hormones, you know." 

"Yes, I know, thank you." She's recovered the sheet and settled back on the pillows again. I lie back down next to her, and pull her into my arms again. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I can't tell if she's just playing devil's advocate here, or trying to protect me from getting my hopes up just to have them dashed again, or if she's really not ready to accept the possibility. 

"So … seriously. What do you think? Do you think you're pregnant?" 

She shrugs in my embrace. "I don't know. What are the odds? I mean, we were only trying for such a short time. Just once."

"Well, one day anyway." 

"Yeah. But still … just one day. Timing has never exactly been our strong suit. So why would we suddenly get it right now?" 

"Well, Abby … I told you … it's the legendary --"

"Virility of the Carter men," she chimes in. "Yeah, I know. It's just … most people try for months … years even … they don't get pregnant the first try. In my experience, I'm not that lucky." 

Lucky? Well now I'm confused. Because that would imply that being pregnant right now would be a good thing. So is she … happy about this? 

"Abby?" She looks up at me. Her eyes big, brown pools that are unreadable. "How do you feel about this?"

Another shrug. "Well, we don't know that there's a 'this' just yet. But if there is … well, I guess I asked for it, didn't I?"

"Yeah. But then you changed your mind. And you were pretty sure that this wasn't the right time."

"Well, I guess I've had a couple days to get used to the idea."

"So are you gonna be okay with it?"

"I hope so. I mean, I _want_ to want it. You know? I _do_ want it. I just want to feel … I don't know, to somehow know that it's the right thing. But I guess if I'm pregnant, after just one try, maybe it's meant to be, huh?" 

Might as well get right down the heart of the matter and ask the big question, the one that's nagging at the back of mind and worrying me to no end. 

"So … if you are pregnant … you're gonna keep it?" 

She pulls away and looks at me like I slapped her. "Jesus, John. You think that just because I had an abortion once, I'm gonna automatically do it again?" 

"What? No. I didn't ask because you had an abortion a lifetime ago in another time and another place. I asked because you freaked out three weeks ago. Right here in this apartment. You weren't sure that this was something we should be doing. And I just thought, that if you still felt that way … maybe you wouldn't want … it just seems like a complete turn around. What happened?"

"What happened?" Now she's shaking her head and looking slightly amused suddenly. Mood swings already? "What happened is that I might be pregnant. And if I am … that changes everything. Look, three weeks ago we were talking about _potential_ pregnancy, a _potential_ baby. Three weeks ago, we were talking about whether or not we should be trying to start a pregnancy, not about ending one that already existed. It was all theoretical. If I'm pregnant, it's reality. And believe me, there's a huge difference between preventing a pregnancy and ending one. It's _not_ like having never been pregnant. I had to learn that one the hard way. And I don't ever want to have to go through it again. Especially not now. Not with you. Not with _our_ baby. You know that, right?" 

"I do now." I can't help but sigh a relieved sigh as she settles against me once again. "I'm sorry. It's just that this is all so unexpected."

"That I might be pregnant or my reaction?" She asks with a note of teasing in her voice.

"Both, I guess. But it just seems so unbelievable. I mean, we could have a baby. In just a few months, our baby could be lying here in between us. It's unreal."

"Yeah. It doesn't feel real yet. Of course, maybe that's because it might not be real. Maybe once we know for sure, it'll start to sink in."

"So what are we waiting for? Let's find out."

"Okay, we'll do a test at work tomorrow." She suggests.

"We're not working tomorrow." 

"Oh yeah. Well, we'll just go by the hospital then and do a test."

"And get the gossip mill running? Why don't we just do a home test?"

"Okay."

"Do you have one?" 

"What? On me? Nooo, sorry to say I don't just keep random pregnancy tests lying around." 

"Oh. Well then … let's go get one." 

"What? Now? It's the middle of the night." 

"Abby … it's 10:15."

"Oh." 

"I'll just run up to the drugstore on the corner. I think they're open all night. You can stay here, rest up. Get ready to pee." 

"Sounds exciting."

"Or you can come with me, if you want." I offer as I get out of bed and collect my wallet and my keys. "But if you want to stay here and rest that's fine too." 

"Do you know what I really want?"

"No, what?"

"For you to _put some pants on before you leave the house._ Or did you want to go to the store in your underwear?" I look down. Oh … oops. Right, pants. There must be some of those around here somewhere. "Try the closet." I hear the laughter in her voice. Well, I'm glad I can entertain her. 

"You want anything else while I'm out?" I ask as I pull on the jeans I've managed to retrieve from the closet. 

"Hmm … maybe some … ice cream?" 

"Ice cream?" I grin at her. "Want some pickles too? Maybe we don't need the test at all." 

"I have to be pregnant to want ice cream?" 

"Well, I don't remember you eating much ice cream lately." I'll take this as another sign. I'm really starting to think that we _don't_ need the test. "So what flavor do you want?" 

"Flavor? Uh, I don't know. Maybe something chocolate. No, something with chocolate chips. No wait … maybe … Oh screw it, I'll just go with you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, let me just throw on some clothes." 

"Glad you remembered that."

"Like you would have let me leave the house naked." She says as she wriggles into panties and pulls on a tank top. 

"Well, I would have enjoyed the view." 

"You can enjoy the view in the privacy of our own home as soon as we get back." 

"Is that a promise?"

"It better be." She's pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and whipped her hair into a ponytail. "Okay, let's go."

She plucks the keys out of my hand and heads out the door, leaving me in her wake. Still a little shocked, still kind of confused, but definitely happy --thrilled-- with this unexpected turn of events. Not to mention this utter transformation in Abby. My Abby … things are never dull when she's around. She's still the tornado that blew into my life and changed things forever. And I wouldn't have her any other way. 


	7. Moment of Truth

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R 

Summary: Is that really necessary? Okay … Carter came home, Abby wanted a baby. So they had sex. But then Abby freaked out. Then one night Carter came home and Abby had a little announcement to make. You guessed it, she's late. Damn those virile Carter men. So now it's off to find a pregnancy test.

Author's Note: For Kelly #2, my favorite crackhead … I hope nothing is too "weird" in this one. And for Catherine for the stellar interactive editing once again. Good luck with that crabs thing. And enjoy the many shout outs. 

~~~~~~

A Dream Life

Chapter 7: Moment of Truth

Pregnancy tests. Pregnancy tests. I know they have to be around here somewhere. It's a drugstore. No way do they not have pregnancy tests. And it's so nice of John to help me. I don't know where he's disappeared to … but ah, here are the pregnancy tests. Next to the condoms. Of course. Why didn't I think of that? It strikes me as funny that they wedge the pregnancy tests and ovulation kits here in between the condoms to the left and the tampons to the right. Aren't these articles mutually exclusive? Well not the condoms and the tampons, one hopes. But the ovulation kits and pregnancy tests … if you need those, you shouldn't need the condoms or the tampons. Unless of course the ovulation kit doesn't work and the pregnancy test is negative. Then I guess you'd need the tampons at least. And if you're relieved that the pregnancy test is negative, I guess you'd need the condoms too. 

How will I feel if my test turns out negative, I wonder. And I realize I have no idea. A part of me wants this, really wants this. But another part of me is scared shitless at the thought. If I am pregnant, the course of action is clear. I don't want an abortion. So I'll have a baby. We'll have a baby. And deep down, I know that it could be great. It really could. For better or worse, we'll be a family. And we'll make the best of it, come what may. But if I'm not pregnant … what then? I don't know. Will I be disappointed and want to go back to trying for a baby, or will I feel relieved, like we dodged a bullet? 

"You found them?" I lift my head at his voice and see him looking over the top of the low shelves at me. 

"Yeah, there are only about 87 kinds. Which one should we get?" 

"Does it really matter? They're all the same, you know. Get whatever looks easiest to take. Or whatever's cheapest." He suggests as he heads down his aisle, around the end cap and comes to join me in front of the array of pee-on-a-stick tests. "They keep them next to the condoms? That's weird." Great minds think alike, I guess. Or our minds anyway.

"So which one?" He considers the selection and then pulls one package off the rack.

"Here. Get this one." 

"Why this one?"

"It's a two pack."

"What do we need two for?" 

"I don't know. What if the first one falls in the toilet? Or we mess it up somehow? What if the results are ambiguous?"

"But what if none of that happens, then what are we gonna do with the extra one?"

"Save it for next time?" 

"What do you mean next time? What if I'm already pregnant?" 

"See? Look." He flips over the package in his hand. "It doesn't expire for another four years. So one way or another, we'll be needing the second one by then."

"Oh really? News to me." He just grins at me and tosses the box of pregnancy _tests_ into a basket. A basket that looks pretty full. And not full of ice cream either. 

"Do I want to know what you have in that basket?"

"I just picked up a couple things we might need." He has a teasing, playful smile on his face. I reach for the basket, and he promptly holds it up out of my reach. 

"You're gonna have to show me eventually, you might as well show me now." I attempt, in vain, to jump up and grab the basket. And because now we are apparently both five years old and enjoying a good game of keep away, he yanks it out of my grasp. And bonks himself in the side of the head with it, dropping it and spilling it's contents all over the floor. 

"Oww." He says as he rubs at the side of head. I should feel more sympathetic, but really ... 

"That's what you get for teasing me." I admonish him as I stoop down to retrieve the fallen items. And then I see what they are. "John." My stern voice. 

"What?" He gives me an innocent and sweet smile, trying to ingratiate himself to me. 

"What is this?" 

"Just some stuff."

"John. It's _baby_ stuff."

"I know that."

"Why? I mean, don't you think it's a bit premature?"

"No, it's fun. Look, Abby … look at this." He picks up a plastic wrapped package containing various yellow and white items, apparently decorated with ducks. "It's like a little layette. See? It's got one of those baby nightgowns, a onesie, little booties, and a little hat. This one even has a receiving blanket and a free newborn pacifier." 

"Oh well, a free pacifier. Great. So certainly that justifies buying a bunch of stuff we don't need."

"We'll need it."

"Not if I'm not pregnant. That's the whole point of getting the pregnancy _test_, right? "

"You're pregnant."

"We don't know that for sure."

"I do."

"You seem awfully confident. What makes you so sure?" 

"Instinct. I have a feeling. A vibe." 

"Ohh, a vibe. And how do you explain that? Paternal instinct? Man's intuition?" 

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Damn straight. You're the one buying clothes for what could very possibly be a non-existent baby." 

"That's not a very nice thing to say about our child." He laughs and heads down the aisle swinging his restocked basket. He's so happy. I just hope he won't take it too hard if his wish doesn't come true. I don't want to see that look of disappointment on his face again. I wish he wasn't so sure. Because if he's wrong … In some ways I want this test to be positive for no other reason than to see the look on his face. Not that I won't be happy too … I will. But I think, at this point, I'll handle it better if it's negative. 

"Abby?" he calls to me from the end of the aisle, pulling me out of my reverie.

I run and catch up with him, plucking another item that catches my eye out of the basket. "What's this?" 

"It's a pig. Shake it. See? It's a rattle. And it's nice and soft. But it's feet and hands are teethers. So it's a toy, a teether, and a lovey all in one. Neat, huh?"

"Lovey?"

"Yeah, you know … a lovey. Like something to cuddle up with." 

"Okay … so it's a cuddly rattle."

"And a teether." He reminds me. 

"Teether? But John … the baby, _if there is a baby_, won't even be born for another 8 months and then it'll another 4 months before it starts teething. We're not gonna need a rattle/lovey/teether for another year. Just like these baby spoons. Won't need them for a year. At least."

"Oh, but these spoons are special."

"Special?" My best cynical voice. Although, truth be told, I'm finding him rather adorable. This whole overly-excited, potential daddy-to-be routine works well on him.

"They change color if the food is too hot. That way we don't have to worry about making the baby food too hot and burning the baby's mouth." Overprotective daddy routine. We don't even know if there's a baby yet, but already he's looking for ways to protect it and keep it safe. I was right about him being a great father. Still, this seems a bit much. Never mind all the things that can go wrong in a pregnancy making it a very long way between conception and birth, we don't even have a positive pregnancy test yet. 

"We don't even know if I'm pregnant!" He just grins at me. "And already this maybe-baby has clothes and spoons and a … a pig."

"What's your problem with the pig?"

"It's pink." 

"Of course it's pink. It's a pig. What's wrong with pink? Aren't girls supposed to like pink? " 

"So now you think that the baby we aren't even sure we are having is a girl." 

"Um, you were the girl I meant … but now that you mention it …" 

"But this bib is pink too."

"Well …"

"You're looking for a daddy's little girl, huh?"

He smiles and shrugs. "Maybe it's more of that father's intuition kicking in." I roll my eyes. He laughs and grabs my hand. "Come on, I want to show you something." 

"Hey, this isn't the way to the ice cream."

"We'll take the long way to the ice cream. Come on. Look at this." The baby aisle. Oh, of course. "Look … there's like a hundred different kinds of diapers here. And they're disposable, but they feel like cloth. And they close with velcro. Look, they're so thin. Wow, how do they do that?" Is he really this excited about the absolute marvel that is the disposable diaper?

"Okay, you _do_ know diapers are just something for the baby to poop in, right?" 

"And look at this -- pop-up wipes! And baby food in plastic containers. How cool is that?" His voice is just spilling over with excitement and his eyes are sparkling. He's happily inspecting an array of baby bottles, picking up various ones for a closer look, with that excited-little-boy expression on his face. 

I had no idea he was so excited about baby products. Of course I realize it's not so much the products themselves as the fact that we might need them. 

"Don't get too excited about those. We won't be needing too many." 

"You gonna breastfeed?" 

"I was planning on it. You have a problem with that?" _I _have a problem with this whole ridiculous conversation, considering it might all be for nothing. 

"No. Not at all." He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. "I'm glad. It's best for the baby. I told you you're gonna be a great mom. But …" But what? But maybe I won't be such a great mom after all? But I might mess it up with all my fears and doubts. " … you know, for juice and stuff." 

"What?" Maybe he wasn't worrying about all the ways I might screw this up. Of course he wasn't, that's my job.

"I said, we'll still need some baby bottles … for juice and stuff. Or you know, we might want to use formula sometimes … or for expressed breast milk --"

"Okay, now we are _way_ ahead of ourselves. I think there's lots of time to buy bottles." 

"You're probably right. But I'm keeping the pig. And the pink bib." 

"Whatever. Can we just get my ice cream now?" I lead him over to the freezer section and start surveying the selection. "Cherry Chip Ba Da Bing. Rocky Road. Mint Chocolate Chip." I can hear that my voice is excited as his was over diapers. So many flavors, so little time. 

"What's it gonna be?" He asks.

"Umm … all of them?" 

"Eating for two, huh?" 

"Shut up. Ooh, look. Coney Island Waffle Cone!"

"And we have a winner." 

We take our various purchases to the register. The clerk unloads the ice cream and baby items without paying much attention, but when she pulls out the pregnancy tests at the bottom of basket, she gives us a questioning look. All I can do is roll my eyes, and turn to Carter, giving him a look. 

"See? Normal people take the test first." 

"Ah, it's just a formality." He brushes off my protests as he picks up our bag, and we head out the door. 

"Good luck!" The clerk calls out to us as we head out the door. 

"I wonder if she meant 'good luck' on it being it positive or…" He ponders this as we pause just outside the door. 

"I'm sure that's what she meant."

"How'd she know?"

"Are you serious? With all the stuff you bought, I think she knows which way we want it to go." 

"We?" He gives me a question look as he takes my hand. But before I can answer, he leads me … in the wrong direction. That seems to keep happening.

"Wait. Where are we going? This is the wrong way."

"I know, I thought we'd take a little walk before we go home." 

"But my ice cream's gonna melt." 

"Don't worry, you're gonna get your ice cream." 

We walk in silence for a while for a while both lost in our own thoughts. Carter's whistling under his breath and can't stop grinning. Oh God, this test better be positive. I knew he wanted it, but I don't think I knew just how much until this moment. And it seems his excitement is contagious. There's a fluttering of excitement in my stomach. Or maybe it's nerves. Or maybe it's morning sickness. Pregnant. A baby. There could already be a baby that we made together growing inside of me. The thought terrifies me. And in the next moment makes me smile. I look over at him and catch his eye. We laugh seeing the expressions on each other's faces. His reflects nothing but hopeful happiness. I have a feeling that my face is probably showing my mixed emotions, but I'm sure he's just glad to see that at least I'm smiling about this. We walk along hand-in-hand, in a companionable silence. Just enjoying each other's presence. 

It's such a welcome change from the past few weeks when we've barely talked to each other. I know it was hard on both of us. Those first few days after our conversation, he'd been quiet and distant. Not that I could blame him. I know how disappointed he was. I felt like the least I could do was give him some space. I expected that after a couple days he would be ready to talk. But a couple days turned into a couple weeks. And by then I was afraid that he wasn't going to ever forgive me. And as much as I may have wanted to talk to him in those weeks, I was afraid he didn't want to talk to me. And then, by the time he started making it obvious that he was open to trying the heal the breach between us, I didn't know where to start. Part of me was mad at him for being so distant. Part of me was disgusted with myself for hurting him. And for letting my fears get the better or me. I was trying to work up my courage to approach him. I knew he was ready, I was just afraid of what would happen once we opened up the floodgates. I'd already revealed a lot to him. And it wasn't easy. Especially since I was still so confused. But I just wanted some time to work it out for myself. So I found ways to stall … to keep him at arm's length. 

Of course, the fact that by then I had realized that I was late and therefore, possibly pregnant, only complicated things. I didn't want to get his hopes up if it was a false alarm. But I didn't want to leave him out of the discovery phase if it wasn't. And with the distance between us, I didn't quite know how to tell him. Not to mention that I had a few things to figure out for myself first. But when I woke up this morning, ten days late for my period, I decided it was time. I had to do something. Tell him, take a test … something. I debated all day about taking a test at work, but in the end, decided that I wanted to tell him first. I wanted him to be there for all of it, from the very beginning. And since I was off a few hours before he was, I'd planned to go home and make a nice meal. I was hoping we could talk over candlelight and good food. And then, afterwards, once we felt connected again, I was going to tell him the news that I knew would make him ecstatic. 

But then I fell asleep. Damn bath. I almost feel asleep in the tub twice I was so relaxed. Well, no, not relaxed. Exhausted is more like it. But not relaxed. In fact, the whole time in the tub, even though the exhaustion kept threatening to get the best of me, I was kind of keyed up. I kept finding my hand returning to my bare belly … every time shocked at the possibility that something could be rapidly developing inside me. And I was more convinced than ever that it was time to tell him. I needed to know myself. 

So I got out of the bath with every intention of making that nice dinner. Instead I decided to lie down on the bed, just to rest for a minute. The next thing I know I woke up in his arms. I vaguely remember opening my eyes to see him there next to me and rolling over to curl up with him for the first time in weeks. And then a couple hours later, I found myself returning to consciousness, the two of us wrapped up together, the way we used to be on a regular basis. And everything seemed right with the world. Except for that one nagging question in my mind. 

And apparently our nocturnal bonding session must have left Carter with the same feeling of a restored bond between us. He questioned my change in mood, but didn't seem particularly surprised by it. He must know me well enough to know that I don't usually voice what's happening in my head. So outwardly I may appear very much the same, until suddenly all those inward changes come bursting to the surface. Or maybe he was just so glad that we were 'us' again that he didn't dare question the origin. 

"Don't fall in." I hear his voice behind me, feel his hand holding me tethered, keeping me from wandering any further. I'm jolted out of my thoughts and realize that we've managed to make our way to the river. So lost in my thoughts, I was, that I probably would have kept walking until I bumped into the railing at the river's edge. Never thought of them in that application before. Good for protecting pets, small children, and women so intent on the ramblings in their heads that they don't even know where they are walking. 

"Come here. Sit down." I settle on the bench next to him as he pulls out that ice cream that I've been salivating over. "I told you you'd get your ice cream."

"How are we gonna eat it? Just lick it out of the container?"

"I thought we'd use a wonderful invention called 'spoons.'"

"And where are we gonna get spoons?"

"Right here." He gives me a look like I must be kinda stupid as he produces the package of baby spoons he insisted on buying. "Now aren't you glad I bought these?" 

"Baby spoons?"

"We can feed each other … practice our technique." I sigh at this comment, but he winks and grins at me while handing an impossibly small spoon. Eat ice cream with this? It'll take three hours. We dig in anyway. It's fantastic. But I don't know who told John he was entitled to half my ice cream. 

"Mmm, this is really good." 

"Hey look, my spoon changed color! I guess it works for cold food too." He's awfully giddy about a color-change spoon. "And this ice cream really _is_ good. Good choice."

"Yeah, _my_ choice. _My_ ice cream." I give him a rather pointed look.

He laughs. "Don't worry, I won't eat too much."

"You better not. If I don't get enough now, you'll just have to go out for more later." 

"Whatever you want." He leans in for a little kiss. Well gee, he sure loves me now. Okay, that's not really fair. I know he loved me all along. He's just happy with me now. Or maybe just happy. 

We continue to eat the ice cream, with me greedily scooping it up and poor John just trying to get a spoonful every once in a while. After a few minute he looks at me and starts to speak. "You know, you never answered my question." I raise my eyebrows at him … what question? "You know." I shake my head. Nope, I don't know. 

"What question would that be, John?" He puts down his spoon in the ice cream container and turns to face me. Smiles softly while reaching over to brush a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheek, and I see the change in his expression from happy and goofy to serious and concerned.

"Abby, how do you want the test the turn out? Are you really hoping that it's positive?" Oh, _that_ question. "I mean, I know you said if you are pregnant, you'll have the baby. But I wasn't sure if you'd just be making the best of the situation, or if you really do want a baby right now. Because_ I_ want the test to be positive. More than anything. But only if it's what you want too." 

Wasn't this what I was just asking myself? I guess this is the moment of truth. What do I want that test to say? I try very hard to quiet the negative thoughts that run through my head. The thoughts that are a constant reminder of all the things that can go wrong. I know that there are always going to be doubts and worries nagging my subconscious. But is the joy that a baby could bring to our lives worth a lifetime of worry? Is it worth the risk of a broken heart, of pain I can only begin to imagine? I look at the man in front of me and remember a time when I used to ask myself the same questions about him. And now I couldn't begin to imagine my life without him. And he's brought so much goodness to my life. He's certainly worth the risks. I close my eyes for a moment. Do I hope that there's already a new little life just beginning inside of me? Do I want a second chance to get back what I thought was lost forever? Do I want to give John the one thing no one else could -- the one thing that would make him happier than anything? Do I want to be somebody's mommy? When I let my heart drown out my head, the answer seems startlingly clear. 

I lay _my _hand on _his_ cheek and smile fully at him. I'm nodding with tears in my eyes as I speak, "Yes. It's what I want, too. I want it to be positive. I want to have your baby." 

He brings his forehead down to meet mine and we stay that way for a minute before my head slips to his shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and we just hold on to each other. Then, with my almost-finished melty ice cream all but forgotten, I whisper from my resting place against his shoulder, "Let's go home." 

He nods and pulls me to my feet, leading me home. 


	8. Three Minutes

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R … you better believe it. 

Summary: Previously, Abby decided she wanted a baby. So she and Carter set about trying to make one. Then Abby freaked out and decided that maybe it was a bad idea after all. Carter was all bummed out about that, but then one night he came home, and Abby informed him that maybe her change of heart came a little too late. Seems that maybe, just maybe, "PansyAss struck gold on the first try." (Thanks for that, Cath.) And because Abby didn't happen to have any pregnancy tests lying around, they headed out to the all night drugstore. And then, while eating ice cream by the river, Abby had an epiphany. So there you are … now on with the fic. 

Author's Note: Where have all the reviews gone? Sniff, sniff. It's all so tragically sad that I have to stoop to being SUCH a feedback whore as to beg … not that it'll make any difference anyway, but whatever. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Dream Life

Chapter 8: Three Minutes 

As soon as we get home, Abby heads straight for the couch and picks up the remote. To all appearances, she's settling in for some late night TV viewing. 

"Uh … Abby?" She turns to look at me as I stand in the middle of the room. 

"What?"

"Well, aren't you going to take the test?" She's not really going to keep me waiting is she? I don't think I can stand the suspense much longer. 

"I don't have to pee." 

"Couldn't you try?" She just looks at me evenly, but with an unmistakable message behind it. Guess she's not gonna try. "You want something to drink then?" 

With an eye roll that I couldn't possibly miss, she says, "Okay, fine. I'll drink something." I know she's just humoring me, but I go to the kitchen anyway. 

"You want iced tea?" 

"Are you sure you want me to have it? There could be _caffeine_ in there." Oh yeah, good point. However something in her voice tells me she's making fun of me again. What's wrong with looking out for the best interests of her and our 'maybe-baby,' as Abby's been calling it? The whole walk home, whenever I'd mention the word "baby," she'd amend it to "maybe-baby." She thinks she's so cute. Lucky for her that she is. I take our drinks out to the couch and sit down next to her, handing her a glass. "Funny looking iced tea," she comments. 

"That's probably because it's lemonade." 

"Didn't want to take the chance on all that caffeine, huh?"

"You can never be too careful." Especially not when it comes to our maybe-baby. 

"It's gonna be a very long nine months." I notice she doesn't qualify it with an "if I'm pregnant" this time. Maybe she's starting to feel the same thing I do. I'm sure she's pregnant. It's almost like I can feel this other presence with us already. 

"You know, Carter, there's nothing to see yet. So stop staring at me." 

Am I staring? Yeah, I guess I am. But I can't help it. It's all just so incredible. She could be pregnant. My future child could already be on its way. I look at her and expect her to look different. For it to somehow show. And that she looks the same as always but could be harboring such a miracle inside of her, seems too astonishing for me to really grasp. I know I must be sitting here grinning like an idiot. But I can't help it. The thought of a baby, our baby, is so unbelievable. I'm so excited, I can hardly stand to sit still. I feel like I should be dancing, or shouting out this great news from the rooftop. Assuming that she really is pregnant. She is, she is. I'm sure of it. Only what if I'm wrong? I just wish she would take the test so I can hold the proof in my hand, and know for sure, without a doubt. 

"Abby?" She tears herself away from the TV and looks over at me.

"What?" She asks me without a hint of the nervousness that I feel. Funny, I would have thought she would be the one who would be a bundle of nerves. 

"How can you be so calm? Isn't the suspense killing you?" 

She shrugs. "Why are you so anxious? I thought you were so confident." 

"I am, but still. Until I see that positive test, there's a chance I could be wrong. I want to eliminate any little bit of uncertainty and know for sure." 

"Okay, let's find out for sure." 

"I thought you said you didn't have to pee."

"Well, I have to now."

"You sure you weren't just …" I hesitate, not wanting to piss her off. 

"What?" 

"Stalling?"

She gives me a look … but then she laughs a little. "Well, maybe just a little."

"But I thought you said you wanted it to be positive." So why was she was desperately clinging to these few last minutes when she could pretend it wasn't happening?

"I do. But …" Uh-oh … "but" what? I hope she's not gonna freak out on me again. She seemed pretty sure when we were talking by the river, but with Abby, you never know. "I'm just not as sure about as you are." Here we go again. I must give her a look because, she explains further. "You know, about the test being positive. What if it's negative? I guess I just wanted a little more time to get lost in the fantasy. Believe it's all gonna turn out the way we want it to and that we won't have to face the disappointment." So she does still want it. Now that I'm reassured about my biggest worry, I want to reassure her

"We're not gonna be disappointed." I tell her as I reach out to push a stray strand of hair off her face.

"I hope not." 

"But … if the test doesn't come out the way we are hoping, you know we can always try again … if you want." I suggest it tentatively, not sure exactly how she feels about it. Like she said, it's one thing if she's pregnant already … but what about if she's not? What then? 

She nods, almost imperceptibly. "You know, just an hour ago I was asking myself if that's what I would want. You know, if the test is negative. And I wasn't sure how I would feel. If I would be disappointed and want to start trying again right away, or if I would feel like I'd gotten a reprieve." I nod to show that I'm listening, and that I understand. Because I do. Abby picks at some non-existent lint on her jeans before starting to speak again. "But then, I don't know, seeing how excited you were, realizing how much I really do want this test to be positive made me remember all the reasons I wanted to do this in the first place. So even if I'm not pregnant now, I guess something good will have come of all this. It's made me realize, all over again, just how much I want us to have a baby."

"So … if we're not already pregnant, you want to start trying again?" 

She nods in affirmation. "Yeah, I think so." I take her hand and squeeze it, giving her a big smile.

This is a big relief. Now I feel like there's not quite so much riding on this test. For awhile there, I was thinking that this might be my only shot at fatherhood. But now that I know that even if she's not pregnant now, there's still hope, I feel much more relaxed. Of course, I still think she's already pregnant. And that's my first preference. If this is what we both want, what good would come out of having to wait? If she's pregnant now ... Well, we don't have to wait on pins and needles each month, hoping that it worked. We won't have to worry about what happens if we _can't_ get pregnant. And we'll be a family that much sooner. But if it hasn't happened yet, we can just keep trying, now that Abby seems to have conquered her fears.

"You're not scared anymore?" I ask her following my own thoughts. 

She looks down at our hands, turns mine over in her own, lightly traces one of the visible veins before answering. "I'm terrified." I give her a questioning look because I don't understand, I thought it was her fear that was holding her back before. If she's still scared now, what's changed her mind about all this? 

She shrugs and then tries to explain. "I guess I finally just realized that fear is always going to be a part of the equation for me. I wish I felt more confident about everything working out just fine, but I don't. Too many things -- most things, in fact -- in my life have gone wrong eventually. Why should this be an exception? And the thought of somehow messing this up terrifies me. This is the one thing I can't get wrong. The one thing I can't stand the thought of having, but then losing. But I don't want to miss out on it either. My mother once told me that if I don't take any risks in life, I'd miss out on the good stuff. And I think she was right." She stops for a moment. Stares off into space. When she speaks again, it's almost like she's talking to herself rather than me. "Everything worth doing is full of risk, and any time you take a chance, there's going to be fear. But I think, when it comes to having our baby, the fear is worth it." She turns her head to look at me. "I took a chance on falling in love with you, and look how well that worked out." 

I laugh a little at that and then pull her to me and kiss the top of her head as she settles against me. "So what scares you the most?" I can't help but think the more we talk about it, the more likely she is to get past these nagging doubts.

She answers without hesitating, "Being a bad mother." She said the same thing a few weeks ago. But I'm still a little surprised because I always thought that it was the threat of passing on her mother's disease that loomed largest in her mind. 

"Abby, you're not gonna be bad mother. That's just not possible. You're great with kids. You're a natural. And maybe more importantly, you can do anything that you put your mind to, Abby. And you've obviously already spent a lot of time thinking about this. I know you'll be a devoted, conscientious mother, if that's what you want. And it obviously is what you want. All it's gonna take is a little hard work, but I know you're up to the challenge. You'll see, you'll be great." 

She lifts her head up to mine and kisses my cheek. "Thanks for saying that. I know you pretty much _had_ to, but it was nice to hear anyway." 

"It's true. I have no doubts about you being a good -- no, a great -- mother." She doesn't say anything, but I swear I can feel the smile on her face as she cuddles up closer to me. "And listen, I know you worry about passing on your mother's disease. And even though that is something to be concerned about, I don't think we have too much to worry about. You're not bipolar, there's no history in my family, so that means the chances of our child having the disease are only about three to seven percent. And there's a one to two percent chance in the general population, so the odds aren't increased all that much. And if you think about it, a seven percent chance, at the most, that still means a ninety-three percent chance of having a perfectly healthy child. And ninety-three percent, those are pretty good odds … I mean, a ninety-three percent on a test or a ninety-three percent chance of winning the lottery or --" 

"Wait," she interrupts me. "How did you know that? The exact percentages, I mean."

"I looked it up once."

"When? When we started trying?"

"No. A long time ago." In response to the look she gives me, I go on. "I wanted to know exactly what the chances were. I figured it might come up someday, and I wanted to be able to reassure you. And I wanted to know just how likely it was that our kids would become sick."

"A long time ago? And you were already thinking about the kids we might have?" 

I nod, a little sheepishly. For some reason, I'm embarrassed by this discovery, but I guess I owe her an explanation. "I've known for a long time that you were the one, Abby. The one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And you're the only one that I would ever want to be the mother of my children, so …" I trail off, shrugging, still a bit self-conscious about this revelation.

Abby sits up and looks at me, somewhat amused. "You are really on a roll tonight, you know that? You know, saying all the right things," she explains in response to the look on my face. Then her eyes get soft, her face takes on a serious look, and I know she's got something meaningful to reveal to me. Her voice is soft and tender when she speaks, "And you're the only man who could ever be my children's father. Because I don't think I'd ever have the courage to do this with someone else." I know sharing these kind of emotional revelations doesn't come easily to Abby, and seeing the tears gathered in her eyes when she says it, makes my heart melt. I lean forward and kiss her. Lightly, but with all the love that I feel for her at this moment. 

Before long she pulls away, and pats my knee. Then in her regular voice, all business now, she says, "Okay, I guess it's time to know for sure, don't you think?" She pulls the pregnancy test out of the bag and flips it over, glancing at the instructions. Oh yeah, that's right. She has to take a test. To find out if she's pregnant. The thought fills me with excitement all over again. She could already be carrying my child. I can't wait to find out for sure. Oh, I hope it's positive. I study her, hoping for something that will give me a sign that my dreams are about to come true. All it garners me is Abby saying, with mock annoyance, "You're staring again. Cut it out." 

Then she stands up and heads to the bathroom. Naturally, I get up and follow her. Once in the bathroom she turns to look at me.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought maybe you'd need some help."

"Oh. Well, who do you think should pee on the stick? You or me?"

"I guess you should probably do it." 

"Well, you know, I'm pretty good at peeing on my own, so why don't you go wait in the bedroom?" She puts her hands on my back and gives me a firm push out the door, so I guess it's not really a suggestion. 

So I stay in the bedroom, waiting impatiently for Abby's appearance. I slip out of my shoes and jeans and sit down on the edge of the bed. And then I wait. And wait. And wait. What's going on? Did she fall in? How hard is it to pee on a stick? I'm just about to get up and go make sure she hasn't passed out from shock, when the door finally opens. Abby comes padding into the bedroom in just her tank top and panties, drops her cloths on the chair and perches next to me on the side of the bed. 

"So?" I ask her anxiously. 

"'So' what?" She can't be serious. 

"Well? Are you or aren't you?" 

"Oh! I don't know. We have to wait three minutes." She nods toward her hand, and sure enough, she's holding the test. 

"I thought that's what took you so long … that you were waiting for the results."

"Of course not. I want to wait with you." She slips her empty hand in mine. "I was just brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed. _Then_ I took the test. Now we wait."

"Three minutes?" She nods. "You're killing me here, you know that, Ab?" 

"Well, you'll know soon enough." There's a little note of apprehension in her voice again. I give her hand a squeeze. 

"Nervous?" 

"Uh-huh. But it's just normal jitters, I think. You know, even though it's what we want, it's still kinda scary. Because it's gonna change everything, you know? Just like those hokey _Johnson & Johnson _commercials, 'having a baby changes everything.' That's a little overwhelming." 

"I know. Change is always overwhelming. But it's gonna be change for the better." She nods in agreement, although I can see she's still a little concerned. "I'm sure there will come a day when we'll look back to these days when it was just the two of us and think how boring and meaningless our lives were."

"You mean 'quiet and peaceful?'"

"That too. But it's gonna be great. Probably not quiet or peaceful, but … lots of joyful noise." 

"Joyful noise, huh? We'll see how joyful you think it is when a screaming baby wakes us up at 2 a.m. And 3 a.m. And 4 a.m." 

"I can't wait." She looks at me like maybe I'm losing my mind just a tiny little bit. "Really. It'll be hard, but rewarding. And I know that it's scary, but just remember that things aren't going to change all at once. We'll have time to ease into it." I pull her into a hug, let her rest her cheek against my chest. 

"I know. It's just … there's no going back. We'll be somebody's parents. And that's forever." 

"Yeah, but I think we're ready. Don't you?"

"We'd better be." 

I chuckle a little at that. "Yeah, I guess so, if we want to have a baby." 

"We already have one." Her voice is so soft and quiet that at first I think I imagined it. 

"What?" I seem to be talking in a hushed tone myself. Trying not to break the spell we must be under.

"Look." She pulls away and offers up the test stick for my inspection. "It's positive." 

Her voice is breathless with nervous excitement. "I'm pregnant." 

Tears in her voice. Tears in her eyes. Tears rolling down her cheeks. She looks at me expectantly. And there's only one coherent thought in my head.

"But … but … it hasn't been three minutes!" She immediately starts laughing through her tears. 

"Well, I can't help that. But three minutes or not, it's definitely positive." 

"Let me see." She offers me the test stick, and I take it in my hand to inspect it. Sure enough, there's a plus sign in the little window. No doubt about it. The vertical line that turns the minus sign into a plus and indicates a positive test is a bold, strong pink. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She's definitely pregnant. These tests work the same way as the ones we use at the hospital, so I know they're reliable. And while it is possible to get a false negative on a home test, you don't get a false positive. It's real. It's really real. We're pregnant. We're gonna have a baby. 

"Say something." She sniffs, still teary-eyed and anxiously awaiting my reaction. 

Say something? How can I say something when I'm speechless? Even though I knew this was very good possibility, even though I really thought she was pregnant all along, somehow, knowing for sure has taken my breath away. Now I really have something that I want to shout out from the rooftops, yet I still can't find any words. Well maybe there are three little words that come to mind. 

"I love you." I pull her to me, and she wraps her arms around my neck. When I kiss her, it's full of all of the emotions that are bubbling over inside of me -- love, pride, joy. "I love you so much." My voice breaks and the tears spill down my cheeks too. It just makes her cry more. Abby, who so rarely cries, seems to be on the verge of tears all the time anymore. But these are happy tears. We're laughing as we cry. The tears dry up after a few minutes. And then Abby yawns the biggest yawn I've ever seen. 

"Maybe you should lie down," I suggest. Not surprisingly, she rolls her eyes at me with a little shake of her head, but she does lie down. I carefully lay the talisman of this next era in our lives, the test stick with its happy little plus sign, on the bedside table before I lie next to her so that we are face to face. Our eyes seemed locked together, tethered to one another by some invisible force. I can't seem to take my eyes from hers. We just lie in the soft light of the bedside lamp, smiling happy, but somewhat shell-shocked, smiles at each other. 

"Well …" It's Abby that finally breaks the silence. "Pretty wild, huh?" 

"Yeah." I look at her face and figure I already have an answer to my next question, but I ask her anyway. "Are you happy?" 

"Absolutely."

"Me too." She laughs at this.

"Yeah, I know. You're glowing." 

"I thought it was expectant _mothers_ who are supposed to glow."

"I guess it works for expectant fathers too. At least in your case." 

Expectant fathers … I guess that's me now. "I'm gonna be a daddy." 

"Yeah." 

"You're gonna be a mommy."

"Yeah." She still sounds kinda awed by the fact. She rolls over onto her back and contemplates the ceiling of the bedroom. And, I suppose, the major changes that are about to take place in our lives. As she puts one arm up to push her hair back, her tank top rides up a bit, exposing a mere inch of bare skin. But it's enough of an invitation to me. I slip my hand on to that bare skin, pushing the material further out of the way, allowing me to softly caress her belly. It's still as flat as ever, but I know that won't last long. I'm still amazed at the thought of all the miraculous changes that are happening just beneath where my hand rests. 

"We did it." I say, awed at the concept that together we created a new life. We made love and made a baby. So simple. So incredible. 

"Uh-huh." 

"We really did it." 

"_You_ did it. You knocked me up." She's teasing me in a mock accusatory tone. "Good job." She's serious about that one.

"Thanks." I feel a sudden surge of pride at this accomplishment. Some primal male instinct tells us to spread our seed and impregnate our female. And there's a certain satisfaction in knowing that I was able to get the job done. "I'm just glad everything works." 

"You mean you're just glad that your little guys can swim." Well, having prolific sperm is considered a sign of manliness, is it not? And to nail it on the first try … isn't that something to be at least a little bit proud of? 

"Well, yeah. But mostly I'm just relieved that we were lucky enough to get it right immediately."

"Yeah. We did get lucky, didn't we? Several times in fact, if I recall. But then we really lucked out getting pregnant besides." 

"All thanks to my incredible virility."

"Yeah, I didn't have anything to do with it. Why is it that men are always so proud of their sperm? You don't hear women bragging about their eggs."

"Well that's probably because it's our one claim to fame in this whole thing. Your egg just floats along waiting for my sperm … which has to do all the work, swimming to that egg. So the sperm has the active role."

"Yeah, the first and last time the male part of the equation has to do all, or even any, of the work. And you get to have fun doing it. Doesn't seem quite fair."

"I'm sorry. I guess I should say 'thanks,' huh?" 

"Why, just because I'm growing you a baby?" 

"But I'm the one who gave you that baby." 

"Yes, but as we just established, I'm the one who has to do all the work." 

"Well, I'll try to make it up to you." I offer. I'm not quite sure how I ever can, but I'll do my best. Still, what can I ever possibly give her that would even come close?

"It's not necessary. I mean, sure I have to deal with the hardships of pregnancy, but … I'm the one who gets to enjoy it too. And I'll bet it'll all be worth it, the first time I feel the baby kick." She sounds wistful, talking about that day in the not-too-distant future when the baby starts to kick. 

The baby. Not a maybe-baby anymore. A soon-to-be baby. I shift positions and lay my head down on Abby's abdomen, my hand still lightly resting low on her belly. "There's a baby in there." I feel her hand on the back of my head, her fingers running lightly through my hair. 

"I love you," she says in her softest, most tender voice. 

I turn my head to look at her. "I love you, too." And then I turn back to her belly, light planting kisses below her belly button. "And I love you, too, Baby. Yes, your daddy loves you." 

"John," the laughter is practically spilling over from her, "what are you doing?" 

"Talking to my baby." I try my best to sound indignant. But I think I'm just too damn happy to pull it off. 

"The baby can't hear you, you know. The baby doesn't have any ears." 

"So what? It's the thought that counts. Besides, I might as well get in the habit now. That way, as soon as the baby _can_ hear, it'll be hearing my voice. Isn't that right, Baby? Your mommy thinks I'm crazy, doesn't she? " She sighs, giving in to my eccentricity, and I return to kissing the baby. Well, sending kisses to the baby via its mother's belly. Its mother. Abby. Abby's my baby's mother now. 

I wouldn't have suspected that thinking of her in those terms would be the least bit erotic. But somehow, there's something about knowing that our lovemaking was so fruitful that makes me want to plow that fertile land once again. Or maybe it's just the most natural expression of these feelings that are running through me. All the love I have for her. How proud I am of her. How happy I am for us. Maybe it's just the perfect way to celebrate our wonderful creation. Maybe it's just been a while. Apparently Abby must be feeling the same way, because as I continue what has started out as the most innocent of kisses against her belly, I feel her fingers gripping my hair a little more tightly, massaging my scalp rhythmically. I continue to move my lips lightly over her bare skin, but now with a slightly more sensuous quality. 

When she speaks, her voice is low and husky. "A little lower, Tiger." Tiger … uh-oh, I'm in trouble now. 

"Well, if it's what you really want …"

"Mmm," is the only response I get. I grin, hearing her moan. 

I find the bottom of her tank top, and she sits up enough to allow me to lift it off her as she reaches down and slips her panties over her hips. I pull off my own t-shirt as I feel her small fingers slip under the waistband of my boxers and then quickly pull them down. 

For a long moment, I lie next to her, just studying her now naked body. And already I notice changes in her. Maybe I wouldn't have if I hadn't known what to look for. When I told her earlier that her breasts looked swollen, I was been kidding around with her. I hadn't really gotten enough of look to know for sure. But now, studying them more carefully, they do look somewhat rounder and fuller to me. Of course it could all be my imagination. But I don't think so. I reach my hand out, thinking maybe a little touchy-feely can help me decide. But then I remember that she did say they were tender. I make a note, wanting to be sure not to cause her any discomfort. 

She notices that my hand changes direction mid-air, ending up back on her stomach instead of at it's intended destination. She laughs a little as she reaches out to take hold of my wrist, attempting to guide my hand to where she wants it. Namely on her boobs, apparently. "It's okay. You _can_ touch them. They're not going to explode."

"Well, you said they were sore." 

"They are. But not _that_ sore." 

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll be gentle." 

"You always are." Her voice is airy and breathless as her eyes close in anticipation of my touch. I let my fingertips touch the round swell of her flesh very lightly. Slowly I explore her tender breasts, moving constantly closer to the already hard nipples. She arches her back and small sighs escape her lips as my hands roam slowly over her body. My mouth drops down to her warm and tender flesh, my tongue following the same path my fingers just blazed. When I finally take one of her hard little nipples into my mouth, I hear her gasp. I freeze, worrying that I've hurt her. But then I feel her arms wrapped around my head, pulling me closer to her, holding me tight. I lick and suck and nuzzle lightly, first at one breast and then the other. 

And then I start trailing kisses down her body. First in the furrow between her cleavage and then down to her belly button. As I kiss the bare flesh beneath her navel, I'm reminded of the baby whose creation, just a few short weeks ago, started out much like this. Of course, the weeks don't seem to short when _this_ is missing. As if reading my mind, Abby says, or rather moans, "It's been a long time."

"Mmm, too long." I reply as I take my place exactly where she wanted me just a little while ago. I run my hands lightly up and down her thighs, feeling her heat, seeing just how ready she is for me. Softly I reach out to touch her pink folds, and she opens up to me like a blossoming flower. And I drink in her sweet nectar, reveling in the softness of her skin and the pleasure in her moans until her body trembles violently beneath me as she calls out my name. 

I slide up to meet her face to face, our lips coming together in a long, slow kiss. It really has been _way_ too long. I'm so glad to have this closeness again. Apparently, so is Abby. She kissing me all over my face, down my neck, on my shoulders. But when I feel her hand sliding farther and farther down my chest and the over my belly, I reach out and capture her hand before it can go any lower. I know what she has in mind, but it's not what I want tonight. 

"Abby, I don't think I could take it … I'd never last." 

"So what? You can just save up your energy for the next round." Unlike that night I came home, that night our child was conceived, I guess she's not too concerned about making sure that the first shot of 'sperm-loaded baby juice' gets delivered to the appropriate destination. She doesn't need to worry about that anymore. But still, it's been so long, I don't want to wait any longer to be inside of her, to join together with her as one entity. When I shake my head, indicating that I don't want to wait for the next round, she seems to understand. "Okay, whatever you want," she agrees as she lays back on the pillow, her hair spilling all around her. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders, and I feel her legs wrap around my own.

I slip inside her slowly and gently, watching as her eyes close in satisfaction. "My sentiments exactly," I think as I begin slow, languid strokes. I feel like I'm rediscovering her all over again. And because this is such a moment of reconnecting with each other, I expect this slow, sweet, gentle rhythm that we've set to continue. But then, after a few moments, without either of us saying a word, but somehow by mutual consent, the tenor of the act changes. Suddenly she's growling in my ear and whispering dirty little nothings. I become her tiger, and there's a wild animal quality to the way we are throwing ourselves at each other. She wraps her arms tightly around my neck, pulling me down to kiss her sweet lips. Our tongues soon begin to mimic the rhythm our bodies have set. Until that rhythm increases as we both get closer and closer to the goal. She pulls her lips away from mine, letting her head fall back on the pillow where she tosses it from side to side. I move even faster, wanting desperately to explode inside of her, but using all my willpower to hold back knowing that she's very close.

Just when I think I can't possibly hold on long enough, her steady chants of "_yes … oh … yes … John_" take on more urgency. Her hips lift off the bed, and I plunge deeper into her, causing her to scream my name as her whole body goes rigid. The feel of her tightly encasing me and the rhythmic spasms of her muscles combine to push me over the edge, and I scream out _her_ name in sheer ecstasy before collapsing on top of her. 

We roll onto our sides, arms and legs entwined, and lie quietly just trying to catch our breath. "Hmm, that was amazing," Abby informs me, finally breaking the silence. Well yeah, I kinda thought so. 

My hand slips from her side to her belly, its new favorite resting place. "_You're_ amazing … Mommy," I tell her, as I trace little circles on her lower abdomen. 

"Nuh-uh. Don't call me 'Mommy.' Especially not after you've just got done thoroughly and completely fucking my brains out. It's creepy." 

I laugh at that, but then admonish her, "Abby! You're gonna have to learn to watch your language."

"We've already been over this … the baby can't hear yet." 

"I know, but it never hurts to get in the habit. I mean, you never know when little ears might be in the room." 

"Well, I certainly hope they won't be in the room when you're busy thoroughly and completely fucking my brains out. That could seriously mess up a kid." She laughs, refusing to take the conversation seriously. Then she rolls over on to her back, and I prop myself up on my elbow, giving me a chance to study her once again. "John, you're staring again." 

"Sorry," I say as I reach out and begin lightly tracing my fingertips around her breasts again. "I was just thinking." 

"That's always dangerous." 

"I was just thinking how truly remarkable your body is, you know? I mean, it has all these dual functions all of a sudden. I mean, now it has to nourish and protect this new life. There's a practical reason for all these parts that were always just … fun. It's kinda weird."

"Oh, _you're_ not going to go all _weird _on me are you? Get that whole, what's it called? Madonna complex? Where you feel like you can't even _touch_ me, never mind the whole fucking my brains out thing, just because now I'm the mother of your child, are you?"

"No, Abby. I think we just proved that's not going to be a problem. I just think it's interesting, I never really thought about it before. You know, how such polar opposites are all tied up together."

She shakes her head a little bit. "What do you mean?" 

"Well … take your breasts, for example." It's a good one, since I'm still very much enjoying caressing them lightly in all their naked splendor. 

"What about my boobs?"

"Well, you know, normally they have this _sexual_ function. They're there for our pleasure. And as a nice adornment, of course. But once the baby comes, they'll have a whole other purpose. To give nourishment to our child."

"Well, that _is_ what they are for, you know … You're not gonna freak out about the breastfeeding thing, are you?" 

"No, of course not. I just think it's fascinating that something that plays such an integral part in the act that _makes_ the baby, has such a practical, natural, innocent role once the baby gets here. I mean, a newborn baby nursing at its mothers breast is about as pure and innocent an image as you could ever ask for. But under any other circumstances, that's not normally how we think of naked breasts -- as something pure. But now they're both … they're sexy and wholesome."

"Yes, I can use them for good or evil now."

"I just think it's really pretty cool, when you think about it, how well equipped our bodies, especially women's bodies, are for procreation."

"So you mean, we have the boobs to lure men in so they'll give up the baby juice? And then once we have the baby that nature made sure we want, we have the means to sustain it?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I think … you think too much." But she's smiling at me, so I know she doesn't really mind my musings, however strange they may be. She understands me, and I'm so glad we're talking, among other things, again. Even if the talking is about the weird ramblings in my mind. I'm lucky to have someone who will listen to them and not make fun of me for them … too much. I'm lucky to have her. Incredibly lucky. The luckiest man in the world. 

"I love you," I tell her. "You have no idea how happy you've made me." 

"Yes, I do. You've made me just as happy." We exchange what's become our typical expression in these past couple of hours -- the goofy grin. "There's just one thing that could make me even happier right now." 

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"A grilled cheese sandwich." Is she serious? 

"What?"

She shrugs. "I'm hungry. Starving actually. We never had dinner, remember?" Oh yeah, that's right. Just the ice cream … of which I didn't get much. I'm kinda hungry too.

"So you want a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner in the middle of the night?" 

"Would you mind?" She gives me a beguiling smile and bats her eyelashes at me. "Tiger?" Oh, she has me now. And she knows it. 

"You want me to get up out of our nice, cozy bed and go into the cold kitchen and make you a sandwich?" I can't resist the urge to tease her, at least a little bit.

"Uh-huh. Pretty much." 

"And why should I do that?"

"Because you love me?" I just look at her. "Because you promised in our wedding vows to 'love, honor, cherish, and make fried sandwiches in the dead of night?'" I don't say a word. "Because _I'm_ making _you_ a baby?" 

"Well, if you put it _that_ way … okay." So I get up and head out to the kitchen. Where, at one o'clock in the morning, I proceed to make my pregnant wife grilled cheese sandwiches. While totally naked. Probably not the best idea. Oh well, I suppose this is going to be a regular occurrence. The middle of the night food runs … if not the nudity. I just hope that Abby hasn't fallen asleep when I return with a platter piled high with grilled cheese sandwiches and diced fruit. 

But I find her wide-awake in the bedroom. Apparently having fallen prey to the same trance that I've been in all night. She's sitting with her back against the pillows, hands on her belly, one of them lightly, reverently rubbing small circles. She's looking down at her hands with this look of quiet amazement on her face. And if I'm not mistaken, she was whispering something as I came in the room. And she pretended to think I was crazy for 'talking' to the baby. Oh well, I'll let her have her secret. 

She looks up at me with a smile. Whether it's for me or the food, I'll never know. But either way, we enjoy our gluttonous picnic of crisp bread and gooey cheese in bed. Abby looks positively ecstatic. Whether it's because of the baby or the food, again, I don't know. But I choose to believe that it's the former. Although a good grilled cheese sandwich can make most people pretty happy. But even when the food is gone and the empty plate put away, she still has a happy little smile plastered across her face, so maybe I know what's making her so happy after all. 

We slip under the covers and snuggle up together. I hold her tight and kiss the top of her head. She looks up at me with sleepy eyes. I can't help it, I look down at her and say, "Good night, Mommy." 

She giggles, yawns, buries her face in my chest, but still, I hear her whisper, "Good night, Daddy." 

And those words are music to my ears. 


	9. Food, Glorious Food

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R

Summary: Well, it's been a while, so I guess I should catch you up. Abby wanted a baby. So she and Carter had sex. And then they had some more sex. And then they had sex again. Then Abby decided she didn't want a baby just yet after all. But, alas, it was too late and she's already got one. And they were happy. 

Author's Note: Thanks, Catherine. And what does it take for you people to review? Not that I ever review myself … but do as I say, not as I do, right? Whatever. 

~~~~~~~

A Dream Life

Chapter 9: Food, Glorious Food

I wake up with a small smile on face as I've done every morning for the past few weeks. In those first moments between wakefulness and sleep, as my eyes are just fluttering open, my mind scrambles to remember just what it is that I'm so happy about. And then, just like every morning, I become aware of the hand casually draped across my stomach if he's still asleep, or softly tracing light patterns if he's already awake. And then I remember why that smile is plastered on my face, even in sleep. This morning, like every morning, the small smile turns into a grin when I remember that, oh yeah, I'm pregnant. 

It's still unbelievable to me that there's a new life growing inside of me. Truly amazing. I can't help but think that I should feel different now, but aside from some occasional queasiness, I haven't noticed any telltale signs of the miraculous goings-on in my body. Well other than your garden-variety fatigue and an alarmingly large appetite. Still, those don't necessarily make me feel _pregnant_ so much as just tired and hungry. But I'll take it. Much better than morning sickness. Even if it is considered a hallmark of pregnancy, it's one I can live without. I'm glad not to be experiencing _that_ particular sign of the miracle happening within me. 

As if he was reading my mind, John pipes up from beside me, just as he has every morning, "How are you feeling?" I turn to look at him, as he smiles the same smile that's on my face.

"Fine." I hate to have to disappoint him yet again. He seems to be anxiously awaiting the moment that I start projectile vomiting with no warning whatsoever. I keep trying to convince him that plenty of women get through pregnancy without any morning sickness. That there's nothing wrong with not having morning sickness. It doesn't mean that anything is wrong or that you won't have a beautiful, healthy baby. It just means you won't spend three months puking. Morning sickness is merely an unpleasant side effect of pregnancy, not some sort of absolute rite-of-passage. And so far, I seem to be tending towards a very mild case myself. If I don't eat enough, I get queasy. But then it passes. No big deal. Yet Carter seems to forever be on barf patrol, waiting for the morning sickness to kick in with a vengeance. Maybe he's having the same trouble believing it's really happening, and it would seem more real to him if I spent half the day with my head in the toilet bowl. Personally, I'm perfectly happy with this whole little-to-no morning sickness routine.

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You don't want some crackers or ginger ale?" 

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? Because it's supposed to help with morning sickness." He just looks at me. Almost like he's waiting for the fates to call me a liar by suddenly descending an assload of nausea on me. 

" I _don't_ have morning sickness. It's almost like you want me to be sick." I say. He looks somewhat taken aback. Oops, I think maybe the hormone bitch came out there for a second. Was I snapping at him? Yeah, probably. Poor guy. And then I remember my theory about him having trouble grasping the reality here and I soften my voice a little. "But I _am_ pregnant. And I do have plenty of other symptoms -- exhaustion, enormous appetite, cravings, even some food aversions. I just have yet to feel the urge to puke." 

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "Of course I don't want you to be sick. It's just … if you ever are, I want to do whatever I can to make you feel better." 

Well, God damn it. Now I want to cry. Where does he get off being all sweet like that? He's sitting up against the headboard, watching me. I gently lift the hand that is still lightly massaging my belly and sit up. I turn around and move to straddle his lap. Making myself comfortable, I lean forward to kiss his chin. "You're sweet. Sorry I snapped, I think it's just the hormones." 

"Those damn hormones sure seem to be responsible for a lot of new behavior lately. Not that I'm complaining about _this_ aspect." Hmm, he must mean the way I'm running my tongue along his jaw line and planting little kisses here and there as I go. Automatically, his hands travel up my legs that rest on either side of his hips, and capture the hem of the t-shirt that I'm wearing. Within moments it's been pulled up over my head and tossed somewhere across the room. Our lips meet for a long, drawn-out kiss. Mmm, something else that happens almost every morning. And most nights too. 

Without really pulling my lips away from his, I say "Just because this is the first thing we do in the morning …" 

"And the last thing before we do before we go to bed at night …"

"Well … are you complaining?" 

"Absolutely not." 

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

"Thank God you don't have morning sickness." 

"Amen to that," I say, as his hands start sliding up my body, anxious to explore the ever-changing terrain. 

"You're starting to look a little different." He tells me. A little? That seems like a vast understatement. I don't think I could manage to shove my boobs into one of my old bras if my life depended on it. Thank God for tank tops with built-in support. Not to mention that at least half my pants are already too tight.

"Starting to look fat, you mean." 

"Not fat. Curvy. Voluptuous, maybe. Definitely 'booby.' But whatever you call it, you look gorgeous. You're glowing, you know." 

"Fat and radioactive. Great." 

He laughs. "Abby …" 

Before I can answer though, his head falls forward, finding my neck, then nibbling his way down my chest to the swells of my enlarged breasts. He seems to find them irresistible. Which wouldn't be a problem for me if they weren't so sore. But as usual, he's very gentle, caressing the tender flesh lightly with his tongue. And his feather light touches do feel wonderful. As do his hands running up and down the length of my back. 

I glance over at the clock and realize this is probably going to make me late for work. Is Weaver's wrath worth it? Just then his mouth captures a nipple and laps at it lightly. Yeah, just about anything would be worth it at this point. I glance over at the clock, and then resolutely look away. I've got more important things to attend to anyway. 

A while later, I start to untangle myself from his embrace.

"Don't go." He murmurs into my neck, holding me tight against his sweaty and sated body.

"I have to. _Some _of us have to get to work."

"Hey, it's my first day off in two weeks! And I'm gonna spend it dealing with foundation business. You wanna trade?" 

"No, that's quite all right. But since _I_ have to get to work, I better hit the shower."

"Want some company?" He waggles his eyebrows at me. 

"Then I'd never get to work." 

"That was kinda my plan." He looks like a disappointed 6-year-old. "If I make you late enough for work, maybe you won't go in at all. I can blow off the foundation stuff and we'll spend the day here in bed."

"Tempting … but I have to go to work or Weaver will probably fire my ass."

"So?" 

"What do you mean 'so?'"

"Abby … it's not like you need the job … why don't you just quit now?"

"What do you mean 'now?'"

"You know, now, as a opposed to later." 

"You mean after the baby comes?" 

"Well … yeah." He looks a little nervous, maybe realizing that he could be stepping in something here. And he's right, I'm a little mad that he should just assume that I'll stay home with the baby like a good little wifey.

"Carter … what makes you think I'm gonna automatically stay home?" There's a bit of an edge to my voice. "Just because I have a baby, I'm gonna be nothing more than a mommy? I should just sit around the house all day taking care of the kids and being some sort of breeding machine for you?" 

"Abby …"

"No really … you know you could _ask_ me how I feel about it before you assume." I huff and puff and do my best to look as pissed as possible. 

"Okay … Abby, do you want to stay home after the baby is born?"

"Maybe."

"Do you want to go back to work?"

"Maybe." 

"Abby …"

"I don't know … ask me after the baby's born. Or at least give me some time to think about it." 

"Okay, fine. But you better call it soon."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, if you don't want to stay home, maybe I will."

"Oh! Hey, now you're talking. We can both quit. We'll both stay home, lying in bed all day …"

"Yeah, Ab, with a screaming baby in between us." 

"Well, he'll have to sleep sometime."

"He? You think it's boy?"

"I don't know, but since you always call the baby 'she,' I thought someone ought to hold up the other end."

"So you don't think it's a boy?" 

"I don't know!" I say in an exasperated, but playful voice, as I finally get up out of the bed. "I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. I don't know if I'm gonna stay home or keep working. All I know is that Weaver's gonna kill me if I don't get my ass to work." He laughs as he settles back against the pillows, admiring the view of my naked, 'curvy' body as I head for the bathroom. 

I take a quick shower before turning the bathroom over to Carter. Deciding to forgo the daily struggle to find pants that I don't have to squeeze into, I just dig up a pair of scrubs. Not even two months along, and I'm already losing sight of my waist. No round little belly yet, just a wider waist and hips. I frown at my reflection in the full-length mirror for a moment, and then, figuring it's only gonna get worse, I decide not to worry about it. As long as the scrubs still fit, everything should be okay. I give the front of my scrubs, and the baby underneath those scrubs, a fond little pat. "It's all your fault that Mommy has nothing to wear, you know." I say in the general direction of my stomach. "But that's okay … I guess I'll just have to buy new pants." Obviously if the baby has an opinion on my pants situation, she's keeping it to herself. So I give up on staring at myself in the mirror and head out to the kitchen.

While John's in shower using up all the hot water in the Chicago metropolitan area, I throw together some breakfast. Eggs, toast, cereal, fruit, leftover pizza. Surveying the state of the fridge when I'm done, I think to myself that I hope Carter's not too hungry, there won't be much here for him. I grab a package of pop tarts for the ride to work and head out the door while he's still in the shower, before something else comes up to make me later than I already am. 

Work is … work. I manage to get there more or less on time. I keep an eye out for Susan who is reportedly returning to work today after an impromptu leave she took last week. Since none of us really know what was going on or where she disappeared to, I'm anxious to find her and catch up. But it seems she's nowhere to be found. 

As it creeps closer to lunchtime and I still haven't had a chance to grab a real break, the fatigue that I'm plagued with these days starts to set in. I want my bed. Barring that, I want to sit down. I plop down in a chair at admit. I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed and I just need a moment to get my footing. Of course, it's not meant to be. Just then Luka buzzes by wanting a hand with pelvic exam. Well, joy. I stand up fast. Too fast. The room starts spinning and immediately, instinctively, I sit back down, almost missing the chair, but righting myself at the last second by grabbing the edge of the desk for support. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping to clear my head.

"Abby? Are you okay?" 

Well, I'm sure I will be once the room stops spinning. I plaster some semblance of a smile on my face, and answer him. "Yeah, I'm fine, Luka. But thanks for asking."

"Are you sure?" He asks as I close my eyes again for a moment. 

"I said I'm _fine_!" That comes out a lot more forceful than I had intended. Poor Luka. He was just trying to help, and I bit his head off. And unlike Carter, he doesn't even understand why. "I'm sorry. It's just been a long morning. And _everyone_ has been asking if I'm okay." Apparently I look like death warmed over these days, and no one hesitates to tell me so.

"Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" 

"I'm just a little tired." He gives me a dubious look seeing as how he witnessed me almost falling on my ass in the midst of a dizzy spell. "And maybe a little bit dizzy. That's what I get for skipping breakfast." Now, I must have eaten a five-course meal for breakfast, but he doesn't need to know that. 

"Ah … well Abby, you have to eat. Maybe you should go get some lunch. I'll get someone to check on your patients." 

I look around. Things are pretty crazy, but lunch sounds like a really good idea. Fingers of queasiness are starting to creep in, so I know it's time to eat before I start feeling worse. After all, if I get too queasy I won't want to eat … and if I don't eat, I'll just feel worse and worse. So yeah, I really _need _to go to lunch. And if Luka wants to run interference for me, I guess I should take him up on it. With John off for the day and Susan still MIA, my first lines of defense are gone. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." I give him a more genuine smile and head off to the lounge.

I open the lounge fridge and retrieve the lunch that John packed for me. I guess he was busy while I was in the shower. When I was rooting around in the refrigerator this morning, assembling my breakfast, I found a brown paper bag with my name neatly printed on the front in magic marker. Just the kind of lunch my mom might have sent me off to grade school with. Except, of course, Maggie was much more likely to send me to school to with a candy bar in one pocket and a soda in the other. I come by my junk food habit honestly, I guess. However, I'm sure this is one lunch that will be perfectly nutritious. I smile as I grab my home-packed lunch and decide I need to find a retreat. Off to the roof I go.

As soon as I get up there, I know I'm not alone. It's an aroma I know all too well. And then I see the telltale sign of the curling wisps of smoke. Since I'd been counting on being alone, I turn and head back from where I came.

"Abby?" I turn around at the voice. Go back the way I'd originally been heading. 

"Susan? What are you doing here? I've been looking for you all morning." 

"Yeah, I'm not on till one. I got here a little early, so I thought I'd come up here first. Grab a smoke."

"Since when do you smoke?"

"I don't. Not really. Only when I'm stressed out."

"So I guess your vacation wasn't exactly a vacation after all." She fixes me with a look as I settle into a lawn chair next to her. I look at her cigarette with longing, for just a moment. Then I remember how long it's been since I quit. And then I remember that if there was ever a time not to smoke, this is it. But Susan catches my eye and holds out the cigarette to me, a silent offer. I quickly shake my head 'no.' "So you wanna talk about it?" 

She lets out a big sigh, stubbing out the cigarette. "Nothing much to talk about. Just my sister up to her old tricks again. Only, of course, she drags Susie into now. Poor kid. She's been calling me for months now … begging to come stay with me. Or at least visit for a little while."

"Why? What's going on? Or does she just miss her Aunt Susan?"

"Well, she may miss me, but mostly I think she wants to get away. Needs to get away." She stops and look out at the city vista before us before turning back to look at me. "Her parents are making her life miserable. Chloe's drinking again, maybe abusing more than just alcohol. She swears she's not doing drugs, but she swears to a lot of things. So she and Joe are at each other's throats all the time, and Susie gets to play referee. When she's not busy taking care of her mom."

"Sounds like a mess." I say, my voice stronger than I would have suspected as I'm definitely freaking out a bit. A mess? Sounds like a nightmare. One I lived through. One I desperately want to protect my child from. It's probably my greatest fear. But at least I have the power to make sure it doesn't happen to my baby. And I will make sure it doesn't happen. Whatever it takes. Poor Susan. I know how much she loves her niece, yet there's little she can do to help her. I reach out and pat her arm. "I'm sorry." 

"Thanks." She shrugs. "I think I actually made some progress this time." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Well, at least with getting Susie out of there."

"She's here? With you?"

"No, not yet. I couldn't get Chloe to agree to let her come stay with me for the summer the way I hoped. But for some reason, she readily agreed that it would be a great idea for Susie to go to camp. She even agreed to let he go to the same camp we went to as kids. So Susie's in Wisconsin for the next two weeks."

"And then what?"

"Well, Chloe doesn't know it yet, but I have every intention of bringing Susie back here for the rest of the summer, at least. If that's still what she wants."

"You'll just move her in with you for the whole summer?"

"I'd move her in with me forever. She's such a great kid. In spite of the myriad of ways her parents, my sister especially, have managed to fuck up her life."

"Well, at least she's away from it now."

"Yeah, at least for a little while, anyway." We both fall silent, lost in thought. She's undoubtedly thinking about Susie while I'm busy having a breakdown over my brush with what could be. But it won't be. I'll see to that. No matter what it takes. "So what's new around here?" She asks.

"Nothing much." In the time she's been gone, I've eaten about 400 pounds of food and slept an average of 12 hours a day. Carter and I have probably had sex thirty times. And we undoubtedly said the word "baby" at least 5000 times. But of course I won't share any of those tidbits because, just like everyone else, Susan doesn't yet know that I'm pregnant. John and I've been enjoying keeping it our little secret. Although Susan does look kinda bummed, maybe she could use a little something to cheer her up. Unless it would just depress her. But why would it? She seemed awfully happy back when I'd told her that we were trying. But then again …

"Is that your lunch?" She asks, interrupting my thoughts. I nod. "Why did you write your name on it? Do we have a lunch thief again?"

"Not that know of," I laugh. "No, this is John's handiwork."

"He packed your lunch?"

"Yeah, I think he feels guilty because I'm working today and he's not." Well, that's one answer. The other being that he lives in terror that I'll revert to the candy bar and soda pop lunches of my youth, leaving his baby nutritionally deprived. Of course, he has been very solicitous to me these past few weeks so maybe he was just trying to take care of me. Or maybe he's just practicing for when the baby's old enough to need a sack lunch.

"Whatcha got in there?" She asks. She'd better not be eyeing up my lunch. Nevertheless, I empty the contents of the bag since I was wondering the same thing myself.

I pull out a sandwich and peek to see what kind it is. "Yum, ham and cheese." I pull a couple more things out of the bag. "Yogurt with fruit. A pickle. Carrot sticks. Juice." Susan's eyes are getting wide as I reveal the contents. "Some trail mix. Too bad there's no ice cream … but oh! A peanut butter cup. " Getting my candy bar after all. But other than that, a nutritionally sound, well-rounded lunch.

"Abby? Has Carter gone nuts?" 

"What do you mean?"

"Well how many meals is that supposed to be?"

"Just lunch."

"For you and how many people?"

"Just me." And a tiny little embryo that seems to have caused my daily calorie intake to double. "Why? Are you hungry?" I hesitate a moment, and then, "Help yourself."

Susan starts laughing. "Yeah, that sounded like a sincere offer. But don't try to tell me your gonna eat all that food now?" Well, I'm already tearing through the yogurt, and as a matter of fact, yeah, I was gonna eat it all now. I give her a look that says as much. "What the hell are you doing? Trying to get yourself bumped up to the next weight class for your next big prize fight? Really … what's going on? You have a tape worm or something?" 

In manner of speaking, yes. Not exactly a tape worm, but another little parasite feeding off my body. "Nooo …" I say. 

"So? Then …"

"I'm just a little …"

"What?" 

"Just a little bit pregnant." 

She just stares at me for a minute. "No way."

I nod. "I'm afraid so." 

"Bu … but … how'd that happen?"

"Well, Susan, when the sperm meets the egg …"

"Haha. I mean … well … Carter told me you guys were taking a break. So …"

"Well, this happened before the break. Can you believe it? Only took us one try." 

"You're really pregnant?" 

"Yeah, I really am."

"Oh my God. Abby …" She gets up and moves over in front of me, bending down to hug me. "Congratulations!" When she pulls away, there's a huge smile on her face. Then her face turns a little more serious. "Are you … okay with this?"

"Yeah, absolutely. I'm … thrilled." She gives me a look. "No, really. I am. I was a little freaked out when I first started to suspect … but I got over it pretty fast." 

"Oh my God, Carter must be over the moon." 

"Yeah, you could say so. He's pretty much … ecstatic."

"I'll bet. So how are you feeling?" 

"Pretty good. Tired, you know."

"And with a good appetite, I see."

"Yeah."

"You look great."

"I look like a Macy's Parade float … all bloated." 

"Huh?" I pull my shirt tight under my scrub top. 

"Look." I instruct her.

"Oookay … what am I looking at? I don't see a belly yet." 

"Well, for starters my huge boobs. And then there's my waist. I may not have a belly yet, but I'm so bloated I can barely fit into my fat pants. Already. What's it gonna be like in seven more months?" 

"Maybe you should …"

"What?" I ask over my ham and cheese.

"I don't know … cut back on your calorie intake." She glances around at what's left of my lunch.

"Hey, the baby has to eat." I reply, somewhat defensively.

"The baby … you're gonna have a baby. Wow, I can't believe it."

"Yeah …"

"Hey, can I see a picture?"

"Oh, maybe I wasn't clear … but the baby hasn't come out yet. It's got about another seven months' cooking time."

"Very funny … I meant a sonogram picture."

"Oh … we haven't done one yet."

"Why not? Don't you want to make sure everything's okay, rule out an ectopic?"

"It's not ectopic."

"But you don't know for sure. Why not do the sonogram? You'd get to see the baby."

"Not much to see yet. And you know, Susan. Most women don't have sonograms in the first trimester if it's not indicated because of some problem. Or you know, if they think there's four in there."

"Ohh, maybe there's four in there."

"I don't think so. Look, my OB doesn't think it's necessary. My blood work is fine, everything checks out the way it should. If it was ectopic, I'd have some sort of warning."

"But why not just check it out … be totally sure?"

"Ugh, now you're starting to sound like Carter. I don't want special treatment just because I'm surrounded by doctors all the time. I don't want people fussing over me."

"Okay, okay …" she says, waving her arms in defeat. Just then her pager sounds. "Well, gee, guess I'm getting called in a little early. Lucky for them I'm already here." 

"I'll bet I'm next," I say, just as my own pager rings. I hastily clean up my lunch and Susan and I head back to work. I, of course, swear her to secrecy about the aby-bay and she agrees not to tell a soul. I figure everyone ought to be congratulating me by the end of the shift. But Susan must keep it to herself because no one seems to pay any attention to me, ordering me around as usual. Susan, of course, has been a bit protective, doing her best to keep me away from the dangerous or infectious patients. But at least she's subtle about it, which is more than I can say for Carter. If they are shooting x-rays three rooms away, he practically lies on top of me to shield me from the potentially harmful rays. Or maybe it's just an excuse to wrap himself around me. At any rate, I prefer Susan's brand of mother-hen, maybe John can take some lessons from her. 

When my shift finally comes to an end, all I want to do is go home and crawl into bed. But, unfortunately, there's one stop that I need to make on the way home. It seems like an interminable time until I am back on the El, heading home. At one point I rest my head back on the seat, closing my eyes for just a minute. I'm just so tired all the time. "You wear me out, baby, you know that?" It's only after the words are out of my mouth that I realize I said them out loud. Oops. Talking to 'the baby' in the privacy of my own home is one thing. Talking to it in public is a whole other. People must think I'm nuts, sitting on the train talking to myself. Luckily, when I open my eyes, I find an almost empty car. The other people are at the far end anyway and probably didn't hear me. Well, all but one other person. An older woman sits close to me and catching my eye, she gives me a smile.

"Are you expecting, dear?" She asks. 

I laugh a little, embarrassed to have been caught talking to … well, basically, no one. But this is the first time that someone has asked me this question, and I find I'm more than happy to answer. "Yeah. I am." 

"I felt the same way in the beginning. Felt like I could never quite sleep enough." I find myself nodding. "Is this your first?" I nod again. "Oh well, enjoy it this time around when you can sleep all you want. Next time it won't be so easy." I must give her a flustered look because she reassures me by saying, "Don't worry, you get through it. And in the end, it's worth it."

"Yeah."

She looks at me for a moment before saying, "Your mother must be so excited. I know I would love it if my daughter would make me a grandmother." Yes, Maggie will undoubtedly be excited when she finds out about the impending arrival. We should probably tell her soon. It would make her happy, I have no doubt. This lady in front of me reminds me a lot of my mother. Maggie who is so often friendly and at ease with strangers. Even in her medicated state, she's still what you would call a people person, striking up conversations everywhere she goes. Getting excited over the most mundane things, even now. I can only imagine how the knowledge of a soon-to-be grandchild is going to affect her. She'll probably have to adjust her meds to compensate for the euphoria. 

"I'm sure she will be." I finally answer. "But she doesn't know yet."

"Oh. Are you and the daddy keeping it a secret?"

"Just for now. We're still adjusting, I guess."

"No sense in rushing the announcements. You'll just have people bugging you for a progress report that much sooner." Now there's something I hadn't really thought about. The entire ER asking me everyday how I'm feeling and if I want to hurl any time soon. What a treat. Oh, I hope Susan keeps it zipped. I close my eyes once again … in a silent prayer, perhaps. 

"That's right dear, you just get as much as rest as you can. And be sure to let your young man do all the work around the house. After all, you've already got a pretty big job." I like the way this lady thinks. "Is he taking good care of you?" She asks when I open my eyes and smile at her.

"Yeah. He is. He's pretty wonderful." I stand up as my stop approaches, getting ready to finally finish the last leg of this never-ending journey home. 

"Well that's good. You see to it that he keeps on taking care of you." I don't think I have too much to worry about on that score. She wishes me good luck as I leave, waving over my shoulder. That was kinda fun. Maybe I should talk to the baby more often. 

I'm still chuckling over the encounter when I get home. No sign of John. I figured I'd be the first one home, even if I didn't come straight from work. As much as I would have liked to see him, I'm kinda glad to have the place to myself. Nap, nap, nap my body cries out. After a very brief shower, I steal a t-shirt from John's drawer and literally fall into bed. 

Loud blaring noise. That's the first thing that registers. Ringing. A bell? The door? My pager? The phone? Yes, the phone. I reach out and grope around the nightstand, finally coming up with the receiver. 

"He-wo …?" 

"Abby? Abby what's wrong?"

"Nothing." I manage to get out. "I'm sleeping."

"Oh. Sorry. I thought you might be worried about me being so late." Late? As if I know what time it is. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be home soon. I'm on my way now."

"Uh-huh. Bring food." 

I hear him laughing on the other end and sincerely hope that my message was understood. I also hope he didn't have anything else to say since I promptly drop the receiver back in the cradle and roll over, closing my eyes once again. I want nothing more than to return my dreams of John and me and baby makes three while I wait for 'my young man' to get home and take care of us, his family. 


	10. Inside the Bubble

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea _(Carbylove@aol.com__)_

Rating: R 

Summary: She's having a baby. Carby fuzz and fluff. 

Author's Note: Thanks for the editing Cath … And Kelly, your request was granted. Thanks for the suggestion.

~*~*~*~

Chapter 10: Inside the Bubble

I creep into the apartment quietly, not wanting to wake sleeping beauty. I've made that mistake before, and it's a scene I'd rather not repeat. I go into the kitchen to stash the food that I've brought home, as per Abby's cryptic request, and then tiptoe into the bedroom. Sure enough, Abby's sound asleep on the bed. I put my other packages down near the bed, and smile at the sleeping form. If I were smart, I'd retreat to the living room so as not to take a chance on waking her up. But I guess I'm not that smart. Or I'm just too drawn to her. 

Because I can't just leave her alone. But it's not my fault. She's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Now, when she's carrying my child, more than ever. I find myself unable to resist the urge to touch her. I perch on the edge of the bed and reach out to smooth her hair back gently. She doesn't wake up, just smiles in her sleep before rolling over on to her other side, wrapping herself around the pillow. The sheet ends up tangled around her legs, and I see that she's borrowed one of my t-shirts. A t-shirt that has ridden up around her waist, exposing her bare backside. Since she's asleep, I won't take her mooning me like this too personally. 

Of course her state of undress does pose another problem. That whole 'wanting to touch her' thing -- the desire is stronger than ever. I shouldn't disturb her. I should let her sleep. If I knew what was good for me, I'd get up and leave the room right now. But she's so irresistible. I reach out and gently touch her leg. She doesn't stir. Her breathing remains the same as I slip my hand up her leg. I caress her slightly-rounder-than-usual butt, and she still hasn't protested or even shown any signs of awareness. I should stop now before I get myself into real trouble. But instead I lean over and place a kiss the rounded cheek that I'm still stroking lightly. 

"Well, that's a whole new twist on 'kiss my ass,'" a sleepy voice intones. Uh-oh. Busted. 

"Sorry." I shift my gaze up to hers and am happy to see that she looks amused, rather than angry.

"Starting without me, huh? You know, you could at least wake me up first." 

"I wasn't trying to start anything … I was just … admiring your irresistible beauty." I look down at my hands still strategically placed on her body. "Well, a little hands-on admiration, I guess." She giggles as she sits up, effectively pushing me away as she tugs her borrowed t-shirt down. I settle down next to her and wrap my arms around her.

"You really weren't trying to start anything?"

"Well, no. Not really. But if you want to …" Now there hasn't been a time that Abby hasn't wanted to in the past three weeks, but still, I thought I should ask. Of course I've already let my hand run up her side to her breast as my lips nuzzle her neck. 

"Dammit, John!" She pushes my hand away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong! Why does something have to be wrong? I just don't want you all over me all the time." _ Me_ all over _her_. That's a new one. 

"Sorry." I mumble. And I am. I'm sorry she's completely insane. Okay, that's not fair. I know this can't be easy on her either. But it's just so hard to predict her reactions these days, I feel like I can't win. Guess I better get used to it. I move over to my own side of the bed, determined to try to stay on her good side.

"So?" she asks me, out of nowhere.

"So?" I repeat. 

She sniffs audibly. "I smell tomato sauce. Pizza? It's not pizza again, is it?"

"Italian."

"Lasagna?" 

"Spaghetti."

"Well? What are you waiting for? Go get it." 

"Dinner in bed?" She looks at me and her eyes narrow slightly. 

"I've had a long day, John. I'm tired. Is there something wrong with wanting to stay in my bed?" She wants to eat spaghetti in our bed. Spaghetti? In bed? Okay, okay. She's having your baby, I remind myself. Give her whatever she wants. 

"Okay, dinner in bed it is then." I hurry back out to the kitchen to collect dinner. I take the time to arrange the food neatly on plates, put the plates on a tray with a pile of napkins, and pour Abby a large glass of milk before returning to the bedroom. I was afraid that perhaps she would have fallen asleep while I was gone, but I should have known better. There's food involved, of course she's going to stay awake for that. Not that I'm complaining. I'm glad to see she has such a healthy appetite. I worry that it won't last, but so far, so good.

Abby tucks into the spaghetti with gusto, and my worries turn to how we'll ever get a twelve pound baby out of her a few months from now. 

"What?" She demands, slurping up an escaped spaghetti noodle.

I shake my head back and forth. "Nothing." 

"Then why are you staring at me?" Uh-oh, she sounds mad. "You think I'm eating too much, don't you? You don't want me to get fat. Then you'll be embarrassed by your fat wife who eats like a pig."

"Abby …"

"I disgust you, don't I?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Yes, I do. You're probably thinking, 'there goes fat Abby stuffing her face again.' I mean, it's not like I'm nourishing your child or anything important like that. And here you are grossed out by me. I'll bet you don't even want to touch me anymore, you probably -- "

I lean over and kiss her. Spaghetti sauce on her chin and all. Seems like it's the only thing that is likely to shut her up at the moment. God, I love her, but it's hard to take the … paranoia sometimes. And the mood swings. And the cravings. I didn't know it was all gonna start up at once. Of course, now that she's kissing me back, I guess I don't have too much to complain about. She pulls back and looks at me.

"Do you feel better now?" I ask her. She shrugs, noncommittally. "I don't think you're fat. I don't think you eat too much. You need to eat to grow a big, strong baby. I was just hoping it wouldn't be too big of a baby, that's all. I was just considering what it would take to get a 12-pounder out of you." She smiles a little, and I lay my hand on her stomach. My baby's in there. It's still incredible to me.

"But better that you are able to eat than that you can't keep anything down. And I'm glad you're not one of those women who doesn't eat for fear of gaining weight. You don't have to worry about getting too 'fat.' No matter what, you'll always be beautiful to me." She rolls her eyes at this, as usual. 

"And I can't believe that you're worried about me not wanting to touch you. Did you forget how I woke you up?" She laughs a little and seems generally happier. I take a flier on a one-liner, "It's not my fault that you wouldn't let me show you just how much I want to touch you."

"Well, maybe after dinner." She says with a grin. "I was hungry." She informs me, by way of an explanation, I suppose. 

"Yeah, I know." I say. It makes sense. She gets cranky when she's hungry. She gets cranky when she's tired. Don't wake her up. Keep her well-fed. It occurs to me that this is all good practice for fatherhood. In that spirit, I wind some spaghetti on my fork and offer it to Abby. She takes it but looks at me suspiciously.

"I can feed myself you know," she tells me, after she swallows. 

"I know, but I wouldn't want to tire you out. You know, before … dessert." 

"Dessert?" Her eyes light up. "What's for dessert?"

"Um … you, me …" I waggle my eyebrows at her. 

"Oh! That … yeah. But I thought you meant there was, you know, cake or something." 

"Well, there's lots of ice cream. Three different kinds, in fact." 

"Even better. Where did it come from?"

"Oh, you know, this new thing called a 'grocery store.'" 

"You went to the grocery store?" She asks, ignoring my sarcasm.

"Well, you said, 'bring food' and I wasn't exactly sure what you meant. So I thought I'd better cover all my bases. Bring home dinner. Get some groceries …" 

"Thanks. I was going to do it on my way home from work, but …"

"Too tired?"

"Well, yeah. Especially after the meeting." 

"Meeting?" I ask. 

"Yeah, you know … AA." 

"Didn't you just go to one?" I ask. For a while now, Abby and I have been following basically the same schedule of regular, but relatively infrequent meetings. That she's felt compelled to go to an additional meeting so soon after the last one has me slightly worried. 

"Yeah, but …"

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Well, I didn't have the urge to toss back a couple of cold ones, if that's what you're worried about." I won't admit it, but yeah, I guess, that's exactly what I was worried about. Not that I think that she would do that, especially not while she's carrying our child. But even an urge can be worrisome. 

"So then … why?" 

She sighs. Looks at me. Shrugs. "Susan was back today." Huh? What does that have to do with anything? Maybe we're changing the subject.

"Oh. That's good. Did she have a nice vacation?"

"She wasn't on vacation."

"No?"

"Nope. She was off rescuing her niece from her drunken mother." Oh. Well, now it makes sense. Susan was struggling with her sister. And I guess when Abby heard about it, it struck a chord with her. She's sitting back against the pillow, looking down at her hands and twirling her wedding ring around and around on her finger. A nervous gesture that I've come to recognize. I move the detritus from dinner off the bed and get comfortable next to Abby again, reaching out to take her hand. 

"She told you about it?"

"Yep." Abby nods. She doesn't say anything right away, but I've learned to wait her out. Eventually she starts to speak once again. "It just reminded me so much of when I was kid, you know. A little girl who has to take care of herself. And her mother. And it's so unfair. And I just … kinda freaked out, you know. It's a horrible thing for a kid to go through. And I don't ever want to put our child through something like that. And I won't. No matter what it takes. So … I went to a meeting, because I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to feel like I was doing something to guarantee that I won't be that same drunken mother ruining my kid's life." 

"You won't be. That's not gonna happen." 

"How do you know?" 

"Because we won't let it happen, Abby." I put a finger under her chin and lift her head up so that she has no choice but to look at me. "Whatever bad things happen to us, we'll get through them together. And we'll have each other, and we'll have our child. So we won't need to turn to drugs or alcohol to get us through the tough stuff. You know that, right?" 

No answer. 

"Abby?" She nods. 

"As long as we're together, there's nothing that we can't get through." She nods again. "But if going to more meetings makes you feel better, then I'm all for it." 

"Well, mostly it made me feel bored. And I was so tired, I was afraid I'd fall asleep. And fall over. And knock down all the chairs. And it would probably be when someone was sharing for the first time. And they'd be mortified. And run away. And never go to another meeting. And die a worthless drunk on the street. And it would be all my fault." 

"Well, as long as these meetings help you think rationally." 

She giggles and squeezes my hand. "Well, I can't say that I really enjoy them. But I don't care if I have to go to a meeting a day for the rest of my life. That's what I'll do if I have to. Whatever it takes to stay sober. I've already promised this baby that she'll never have to come home to find her mommy passed out on the living room couch. And that's promise I intend to keep." I kiss the top of her head and wrap my arms around her more tightly. I'm so proud of her. "I guess I'll have to pass out in the bedroom instead."

"Abby …" 

"Just kidding." 

"I know." 

"Seriously, though. I want _you _to promise _me_ something."

"Anything." 

"Promise me that you won't ever let me do anything to hurt the baby." 

"Abby, you're not gonna do anything to hurt this baby. You're gonna be a great mom." 

"I wonder if my father said the same thing about Maggie?" I quickly turn to look at her. She rarely mentions her father. She catches my look and shrugs. "The least he could have done was stick around and try to protect us from our own mother. God knows I can understand why he didn't want to be married to her, but we were his kids." She's not crying, but her voice is flat. Denoting a painful subject that she hasn't really let herself deal with yet. Or maybe she's already dealt with it and is resigned to it. I'm not sure which. Still, it tells me what she's really asking me to promise. 

"I'm not going to leave you. I'm certainly not going to leave our kids. No matter what, I wouldn't walk away from my children. " 

Abby nods. And then pats her belly. "See, baby, I got you a good one. Whatever else I mess up, at least I made sure you've got a good daddy." 

"And the baby is gonna have a good mommy, too. She's lucky to have a mother who is so devoted already." I lean down and kiss her. We should start a mutual admiration society. Although I guess we kinda did when we put those rings on our fingers. 

"You said 'she' again." Abby chides. 

"Yeah, so did you." 

"I did? No, I didn't." 

"Yes, you did. You think it's a girl, too, don't you?" I've had a feeling from the very beginning. Abby claims that she doesn't have any idea, but I think that maybe she's just afraid to be wrong. 

"No."

"Just hoping?"

"No. I'll be happy either way." Well, so will I. But that doesn't mean that if I could choose … but of course, I can't. So I guess we'll wait and see. 

"Hey," I start, changing the subject. Well, shifting to a different aspect of the ever-present subject. "Wanna see what I got today?" 

"Oh no. I'm afraid to ask."

"Well, you're gonna find out anyway." I laugh as I retrieve the bags with my other purchases. I pull a few things out and toss them on the bed.

"Books?" Abby seems relieved. She was probably afraid that I'd already bought an entire set of nursery furniture.

"Yep, I thought there were a few that we should have." 

"A few? More like an entire library." She looks over at me with amusement as she starts sorting through the books. "Is there any subject you missed? Let's see … books on pregnancy, child care, child _birth_, breastfeeding, child development and … " She looks at me again, but this time I can't quite read the look on her face. 

"Not that I think we'll need it. But I thought maybe you'd feel better having a reference resource. You know, a place to start if we're ever concerned." She nods and looks down at the book in her hands. A book about bipolar disorder in children. I happened upon it in the bookstore, and thought that maybe it was something we should have. I know Abby would prefer not to think about it, but I also know that she can't help thinking about it. And neither can I, really. I'm not terribly worried about the possibility, but I do want to be prepared. 

"Of course, we don't have to worry about it now." I tell her as I gently take the book out of her hands and put in a drawer in the end table. Out of sight, out of mind. "And … look what else I got." I empty out another bag.

"Kids' books?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Yeah, bedtime stories and fairy tales. Classics and Dr. Seuss. My favorites from when I was a kid. And look, _Good Night, Moon_. In a board book. Aren't these things great? They're made out of cardboard so the baby can't rip -- or eat -- the pages." She's giving me her indulgent look right now. She thinks I'm crazy, but she's gonna just put up with my insanity anyway. "Hey, look at these. Plastic books for the bathtub, cloth books, books with teethers. This one has a strap to attach to the stroller."

"Convenient." She's flipping through the books and shaking her head. "But why did you buy them now? Aren't you a getting a bit ahead of yourself?"

"No, I want to start reading to the baby."

"Before it's born?"

"It can't hurt."

"But the baby can't hear yet."

"So we'll get in the habit … and then once it can hear and after it's born … You know how important it is to read to your kids."

She gives that little half smile that I love so much. "It's pointless, isn't it?"

"What? Reading to the baby? Not at all. It improves vocabulary and attention span and helps develop a love of books."

"No, not reading to the baby. It might be a little pointless now, but it'll be important later. And if you want to start reading to my stomach now, be my guest. Maybe it'll improve my digestion."

"You feeling sick?"

"No, I'm not feeling sick."

"Oh, good. So what is it that you think is pointless? Besides reading children's books to your belly?"

"It's pointless trying to get you to stop buying things for the baby." 

"Yeah, probably. I can't help it. I'm excited." I'll admit it. Although excited doesn't really cover it. Thrilled, delighted, overjoyed. I just can't wait.

"And that's a good thing. It's just that pretty soon … we're gonna run out of room for all this stuff." 

"I guess we'll just have to get a bigger place." I tell her.

"Ugh, let's not have this discussion right now." I've brought it up before -- the idea of looking for a house. Or at least a bigger apartment. Abby steadfastly refuses to talk about it. She also refuses to talk about why she won't talk about it. I guess she's already dealing with enough changes, she doesn't want to contemplate any more.

"Okay, we won't talk about it … right now." I give her a wry smile as I reach into a bag. "Besides there's something I want to show you."

"Oh God … what now? Baby's first car?"

"Haha. That's ridiculous Abby. How could I have a car in this bag?" She just looks at me. "Although I did see one of those little kids' motor cars that looked just like a little Jeep."

"You were at Toys 'R' Us looking at baby things again, weren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Did you buy anything?"

"No, but I did pick up a catalogue of baby products while I was there."

"Is that what you wanted to show me?" 

"Nope. I wanted to show the baby." 

"What?" I point to the book I've laid on the bed in between us. It's a big book. A coffee table book. "What is this? A photography book? Pictures of babies?"

"Sort of. In utero pictures of babies. So we can see what our baby looks like right now."

"Oh." Is her only comment. But I can see the smile creeping across her face. 

"Baby's six weeks old, right?" I ask as I start flipping through the pages. 

"45 days." I raise my eyebrows at her. "What? It's not like we don't know exactly when it happened. All you have to do is figure out how long you've been home from Central America."

"Oh yeah. It's kinda nice knowing exactly when junior was conceived."

"Junior? I thought that were convinced that it's a girl."

"Abby, Junior." 

"You're so funny."

"What's wrong with 'Little Abby?'" 

"No way. We're not naming the baby after me. We're not naming the baby after anyone. I want our kids to have their own names."

"No John IV then, huh?"

"Did you really want that?" She asks me.

"Well … no, not really."

"Maybe John can be his middle name."

"No," I counter, "Abigail can be _her_ middle name." She rolls her eyes at me. I'm not sure if it's for insisting that the baby is a girl, or my suggestion about her name. 

"So … are you gonna show me this picture of 'our' baby or not?"

"Sure. Here you go. Six week old embryo." 

"Wow." Abby says. "That is so … ugly."

"Abby!" 

"No, really, it's kinda scary."

"Abby … it's not scary or ugly, it's beautiful."

She starts laughing. "You're nuts. _That _picture is not beautiful. Look, I know our baby will be beautiful. And the whole process of pregnancy is beautiful … but at this particular stage, the baby is _not_ beautiful. It has the potential … but at the moment, it kinda looks like a slug." 

"Abby." I push the book out of the way and lay my head down on Abby's lap. "Don't listen to your mother, she has no imagination. And no idea what she's talking about. You are beautiful. Just like your mother." I look up from talking to the baby, and catch the mommy sticking her tongue out at me.

"It's not even much bigger than a slug. Not even half an inch yet. Unbelievable, isn't it?" She asks in more reverent tone. 

"Yeah."

"I can't believe that in just a few months it will go from garden slug to a real, live baby. It all happens so fast." 

"I'll bet you won't be saying that when you're nine months pregnant." She gives me playful shove, pushing me off her lap. 

"I'm serious, John. Look at this. A picture of what the baby looked like five days ago. Aside from the eye, the facial features were indistinguishable. And now, just five days later there's a nose and lips, even an ear."

"Aha! See, it's not too early to start reading to the baby."

"The baby still won't be able to hear anything until about the fifth month. If you don't believe me, just read the book. It says so right here. Between the fifth and sixth month. And since I'm only in the second month, we've got some time."

"I'm still gonna start reading now."

She sighs. "Okay, so what's baby's first bedtime story gonna be? Wait, maybe I should choose since I'm the one who's really gonna be hearing it."

"Actually, there's something else I'd rather you listen to." 

"Oh yeah, what's that?" 

"Well, there was music playing while I was at the bookstore. And this one song … I just happened to catch some of the lyrics so I stopped and listened. It was one of those perfect music montage kind of songs. Something right out of some chick flick. But it was perfect. So I ran over to the music department and asked the clerk what was playing. She showed me this CD." I hold it out for her inspection. 

"Marc Cohn. What song?" She asks as she leans over to put the CD in the player that sits on the bedside table. 

"_The Things We've Handed Down_." I tell her. 

"Oh." She says, selecting the right track and then sitting back against the pillows once again. She motions for me to return to my former position, resting my head in lap, and I gladly do. "I wonder what it's about." She says in her very-best 'curious' voice. Good thing I find her sarcasm cute and endearing. I'm stretched out across the bed, using her lap as my pillow, and she's softly smoothing my hair back from my forehead as I close my eyes. We stay just like this as we listen to the lyrics that had so captivated me earlier that day. 

__

Don't know much about you   
Don't know who you are   
We've been doing fine without you   
But, we could only go so far   
Don't know why you chose us   
Were you watching from above   
Is there someone there that knows us   
Said we'd give you all our love   


It's so true. Abby and I were pretty good, just the two of us. But now, with this baby, things are even better. We're closer, we're stronger … we're a family. And already I know that we both love this baby more than anything.

Will you laugh just like your mother   
Will you sigh like your old man   
Will some things skip a generation   
Like I've heard they often can   
Are you a poet or a dancer   
A devil or a clown   
Or a strange new combination of   
The things we've handed down   


When I think about the baby, I think about how I want her to be just like her mother … with maybe just a few of my traits thrown in for good measure. And I think about how I hope that our child will be lucky enough that the all the bad stuff will skip right over her. But mostly, I think about how I can't wait to meet this little person and see what a beautiful baby Abby and I can make together.

__

  
I wonder who you'll look like   
Will your hair fall down and curl   
Will you be a mama's boy   
Or daddy's little girl   
Will you be a sad reminder   
Of what's been lost along the way   
Maybe you can help me find her   
In the things you do and say   


I want my daddy's little girl to look just like my Abby, chestnut curls and big brown eyes with a smile that lights up all of Chicago. And I hope that this baby will never be cause for sadness, and always bring us nothing but joy. There's been so much sadness in our lives already. So many thing have been lost for both of us. My grandparents gone. My brother, dead. Her brother, sick. Both of us with parents unable or unwilling to be the parents we've needed. But I can't help but hope that this baby will bridge the gap, and heal some of the wounds in our families. 

And these things that we have given you   
They are not so easily found   
But you can thank us later   
For the things we've handed down 

Only good things. I only want to give this child the good things in both of us. The good things in our lives. I want my baby to be spared the pain and heartache that Abby and I have has to face. I want to leave our baggage behind and concentrate on the future. Our future as a family. Nothing in the world matters to me more. 

"John?" I open up my eyes and find myself staring into Abby's. Tearful and soft as they look down at me. It's one of those moments where we don't really need to say anything. We look into each other's eyes and know what the other is thinking. In silent agreement, we rearrange ourselves on the bed. Spooning together, Abby's back to my chest, my chin finding a resting place on her shoulder. She's in nothing but a t-shirt, I'm still fully dressed. There are books scattered all over the bed and the floor and a tray of dirty dishes covered in congealed spaghetti sauce sitting by the door. But none of that matters right now. 

We're inside our little bubble. The John and Abby and Baby Carter bubble where the rest of the world, and even dirty dishes, cease to exist. I rest my hand on her belly, relishing how comfortable and right it feels there. Her hand covers mine and I know that she's smiling the same introspective smile that graces my face right now. Both of us listening to the music and dreaming our baby dreams and feeling blessed to finally have this kind of happiness in our lives. We really are living a dream life. 


	11. Double Date

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R 

Summary: It's a Carby. Abby and Carter are married. And pregnant. And pretty happy about that fact. 

Author's Note: Thanks for the editing, ladies. You know who you are. Of course there wasn't much editing to do, so thanks for worshipful praise instead. 

~*~*~*~

A Dream Life

Chapter 11: Double Date

"Like a double date?" I ask, incredulous. 

"Well, not exactly. Not a double date. Just dinner." John says. We're in the lounge getting ready for another fun-filled day of saving lives at County. Carter has just suggested expanding our date night to include another couple.

"You and me. And Susan and Luka." 

"Yeah." 

"Sounds like a double date to me."

"Ahh!" He sounds a little frustrated. 

"A double date with our exes. You know, that's a little weird."

"What's weird about it? I mean, we're all friends, right?" 

"Well … yeah. But you know, Luka is a lot more my ex than Susan is your ex."

"Huh?" 

"You know. I mean, you and Susan never …" 

"Oh. Yeah. But Abby, that was a lifetime ago. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. Does it bother you? Because I can tell them to forget it."

I sigh. "No, it doesn't _bother_ me. I just think it's kinda … well, weird. But you're right, we're all friends. Sort of. So why not? I guess." 

"Good. I think it'll be fun." He swings his stethoscope over his head so he can drape it around his neck and then leans over to kiss my cheek. "Be careful out there." Leave it to Carter to think that bedpan duty is dangerous. 

I hurry to get the last of my own preparations done before heading into the zoo that is the ER. We were already late getting here this morning and then taking time to plan our social agenda has just left me with more catch-up work. I spend the next couple hours scurrying around trying to get ahead of the work, but it really isn't happening. I finally take a breather at admit, leaning against the desk. 

"Hey." Susan appears next to me. "So we're on for tonight, right?" 

"You ladies have an important night of painting your toenails planned? Maybe you're gonna do each other's hair?" Frank chimes in for no apparent reason. 

"No, Frank," I tell him. "It's our group sex night." 

"Do you wanna join us?" Susan asks with a straight face. "It's bondage night. Bring your own rope." 

Frank's face turns bright red as he looks at us and starts to say something but then stops. In the end he just shakes his head and hurries off, busying himself on the other side of the desk. Muttering something under his breath that might have been "crazy broads."

"So I was saying, we're all set for tonight right?" Susan asks.

"Yep, Carter gave me the game plan." 

"Okay. Well, Luka's off today so I guess he'll just meet us there and … Abby? Abby, are you okay?" 

"Uh …" The room is doing that spinning thing again. Susan must have noticed when I squeezed my eyes shut trying to fight off the dizziness. I need to sit down. So I do. Right there on the nasty ER floor.

"What's wrong, Abby?" 

"I'm okay."

"Then why are you sitting on the floor?"

"I'm just a little dizzy." I tell her. 

"Abby? Are you okay?" Carter. Of course. His radar must have kicked in. He kneels down next to me looking concerned.

"I'm fine. Got a little dizzy." He gives me a stern look. "But I'm okay now." I attempt to prove it by standing up. And immediately I feel myself start to sway as the room starts spinning again. And then, before I know what's happening, I'm being swept up into John's arms. "What are you doing? Put me down." 

"I think you need to lie down." He says as I find myself being gently placed on a gurney. Right out here in front of everyone. Great. He sits down on the gurney next to me and gives me a long look. 

"I'm really okay." 

"Uh-huh. You didn't eat breakfast, did you?"

"Well … we were late." 

He lets out an exasperated sigh. But his voice is soft when he speaks. "You have to eat, babe. The little one needs you to, you know." He pats my belly and then lets his hand rest there. 

"Take your hand off my stomach. Everyone's staring. And I don't want them figuring out our little secret." 

He looks over his shoulder toward the admit area. "Well, it won't be a secret for long. Besides, no one's paying any attention. I don't think they even noticed." But he does move his hand off my abdomen and on to my leg, where he pats my knee affectionately. 

"Yeah, it's every day you come along and pick me up and lay me down on a gurney."

"Actually, it's been a while since we did that." He says with a grin. I give him an eye roll. So he decides to change the subject. "You must be hungry. Since you skipped breakfast and all."

I feel like he's scolding me. "I told you, we were late. I thought I would grab something here, but the place was crazy and I never got a chance. It's not like I did it on purpose." 

"I know that, Abby. I wasn't suggesting that you did anything wrong. But if you're hungry, I can go get you something to eat." I shrug. 

"If I go get food, will you eat?" He asks. I look at him and then nod. "Do me a favor, okay? Just stay here and rest until I get back. Consider it your break." He's negotiating with me. Food in exchange for me staying on this gurney like an invalid.

"How about if I wait in the lounge?" 

"How about if you just stay here? Susan can check you out while I'm on a food run." He gestures for a hovering Susan to come over. 

"Check me out? I don't need to be checked out, I'm fine." 

"Susan, do me a favor? Keep her here … maybe check out her vital signs." 

"Sure. I can do that."

"Hello? In the room. Could you please not talk around me?" I protest. 

"Sorry." John says, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "I'll be right back." He hops up and disappears to find me a belated breakfast.

"So how are you doing?" Susan asks, picking up my wrist to take my pulse. I give her a look. She smiles. "Let me guess -- you're fine." 

"Well, I am." 

"He's just looking out for you and you-know-who." She says.

"I know. But …" 

"Abby, you're lucky to have a husband who is so involved and so concerned. You're lucky to have him." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"And maybe he's right and you should get some rest. You do look tired. Why don't you close you eyes and rest until Carter gets back." I hate to admit it, but it sounds like a good idea. I'll just close my eyes for a minute. 

******

"She's okay. Pulse, blood pressure, everything's normal. Dizziness is a common enough side effect and if she didn't eat …" 

I open my eyes and find Susan and John standing over me. He reaches out and smoothes my hair back from my face. "Sorry we woke you." 

"I wasn't sleeping." 

Susan laughs at that. "Sure you weren't." She says with much sarcasm. "Abby, you've been snoring over here for a half and hour." 

"It took me a while to get your breakfast." John apologizes. Gee, seemed pretty quick to me. Didn't he just leave? Huh. Maybe I was sleeping. 

"Okay, I have other patients to check on. I'll see you later, Abby." Susan says as she walks away. 

Carter smiles at me as he sits down on the gurney with me. "Hungry?" He asks. 

"Yeah." Always. "Something smells good in there." I say, gesturing to the container he's holding. 

"I got you French toast." 

"Yum." 

"With strawberries and strawberry syrup." 

"I love you." 

"I know." He gives me a grin. "I'm not gonna have any trouble getting you to eat this, am I?" He's popping open the Styrofoam container and apparently cutting up my food. 

"Nope. But I think I can cut my own food." He offers me a piece on a plastic fork. "I think I can feed myself, too. John, I'm serious. I'm not having the whole ER watch you feed me. We've already created enough of a scene." His answer to that is to simply reach over and pull the privacy curtain around us.

"Better?" He asks. 

"Not really, but I guess I'm not gonna win this one." And I'm starving so whatever it takes to get that French toast is okay with me. I'll even let him feed me. And that's exactly what he does. Sneaking a bite or two for himself, but mostly helping me through a generous serving of the fried bread and fruity syrup. 

"Are you feeling better now?" He asks after I drink all my milk like a good girl. 

"Yes, thank you." I say in my best 'polite' voice. I think he notes the sarcasm. But then I say in all seriousness, "Thanks for bringing me … brunch."

"Anytime." I know he means that. 

"I have to get back to my patients." I say, as I attempt to get up.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Nope. Called in a replacement for you."

"What? Why would you do that?" 

"Because you're going home."

"No, I'm not." 

"Yes, you are."

"I'm fine, John."

"But you weren't before."

"You heard Susan, dizziness is a perfectly common side effect of …" I drop my voice, not knowing who might be standing with in earshot, " … pregnancy. I don't need to go home every time I experience something normal." 

"Abby … please? Do it for me? I don't want to see you overworked or stressed out. Just go home and rest. You haven't had a day off in a while, I think you need a chance to relax. Maybe take a nice long nap …" 

"Well …" I have to admit it's tempting. "What are you going to tell everyone?" 

"That you're not feeling well. It's true enough." 

"Okay." 

"Okay, you'll go home?"

"Yeah. I don't have the energy to argue with you. And something tells me I won't win, anyway."

"You got that right." He says, taking my hand and helping me off the gurney then leading me to the lounge where he supervises while I get ready to go home. 

And then he leads me out to the ambulance bay and packs me into a cab. Guess he didn't want me straining myself by driving or riding the El. By the time I get home, I'm more than grateful for the day off. That long nap that John mentioned is sounding like a really good idea. I drop my stuff as soon as I get in the door. 

"Come on, baby." I say to thin air. "Let's go get a nap." 

******

I wake up to knocking. Bang, bang, bang on the front door. Did John forget his keys again? I stumble out of bed and through the living room. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to make sure you have your keys?" I say as I open the door. 

"I don't have keys to your place, Abby. I don't think Carter would approve." 

Luka. Shit. What's he doing here? Am I wearing pants? I look down. Scrub pants. Okay, good. I should probably think about these things before I answer the door from now on. I don't even want to think about the state of my hair. And I really wish I could get my eyes to actually focus on something. 

"Uh … What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I'm supposed to pick you up." Luka informs me.

"Pick me up?" 

"For our date?" 

"Our … date?" Okay, what's going on here? Did I just jump back in time? Am I dreaming? Have the past few years been nothing but a dream? 

"Well, not _our_ date. Not you and me. Our twin date, is that what you call it? You and Carter. Susan and me. Remember?" Right. Right, dinner. Yeah, I remember that. Sort of.

"Double date."

"Right."

"And why are you picking me up?"

"Susan called and said she and John would ride together from work, but that you came home. So she asked if I could pick you up since it was on my way. They didn't call you?" 

"I … uh … I don't know."

"Abby, are you okay?" Oh dear God, could anyone else in the world possibly ask me that question? 

"I … was, uh, taking a nap." 

"Oh." And then we just stand there for a minute. "Can I come in?" Luka finally asks. 

"Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure. I'm … uh, not exactly ready." 

"I see that."

"I'll have to change … and stuff." 

"Okay. Take your time." 

"Well … make yourself at home." I tell him after closing the front door and heading for the bedroom. I don't know if it's a side effect of pregnancy or from all these naps, but I seem to be suffering from a permanent brain fart. I manage to get it together long enough to change into some clothes that I can still fit into and run a brush through my hair. Which just gives me a nice case of frizzy bed head. Okay, a clip it is. Not much better. Oh well, what difference does it make? Good thing I've already snagged Carter. Too late for him to run away because of a seriously bad hair day. 

"Okay, I'm ready." I announce to Luka as I reappear in the living room. He gives me a look. Probably he's scared by my hair. Oh well. That's his problem. He wisely chooses not to say anything about the hair, the lack of make-up, or the truly stunning ensemble that I've managed to scrape up for the evening. Baggy black pants and a loose-fitting, short-sleeve, blue shirt. Not exactly fashion show material, but it's not that bad either. 

"Um … Abby?" I hear the note of caution in his voice.

"What?" I ask, trying my best to keep the annoyance out of my own voice.

"Shoes?" 

I look down. Damn, I knew I forgot something. Okay, shoes. I have some of those around here somewhere. I have a really cute pair of strappy sandals somewhere in the bottom of my closet that would go a long way toward dressing up this outfit. Too bad I'll never fit my fat feet into them. Pregnant feet? Who knew such a thing existed. And in the first trimester too. Blah, forget the sandals. Oh look, a pair of Birkenstocks sitting by the door. Perfect. They don't do much for the outfit, but at least they are black. I shove my feet into the Birks, grab my bag off the floor where I dropped it hours ago and open the door. Luka gives me a curious glance as he walks past me, but apparently decides not to say whatever he's thinking. 

******

The car ride is passing in relative peace. We make a little small talk, but of course I don't have too much to say, considering that Luka is unaware of the consuming event in my life. There are a few moments of strained silence, but we manage to recover by talking about work … or Susan. 

"You really like her, huh?" I finally ask him. It's become kind of obvious to me as he's talked about her. 

"Sure, what's not to like?" He says. I wait, but he doesn't expand on those thoughts.

"Nothing." I finally answer. "Susan's great. But I'm supposed to say that. It's sort of a best friend's job." 

"You two are pretty close, aren't you?" 

"Yeah. We are. It's nice. I haven't had a lot of … girl friends, you know?"

"She only has good things to say about you. She talks about you all the time."

"Yeah, well … I pay her to do that."

"So … what does she say about me?"

I can't help it, I start laughing. I look over at him, wondering if he's serious. But he looks … embarrassed? Maybe he is serious. Well, how very junior high. "Don't put me in the middle of this. I'm not playing matchmaker." 

"I wasn't asking you to. I just wondered what she says about me." 

"She likes you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He says, with a smile. 

"She'd be lucky to have you." He looks at me skeptically. "Really." 

"Yeah? You wouldn't mind?"

"I want you both to be happy. You both deserve some happiness. If you found it together …" I trail off and shrug. 

"Then we could be just like you and Carter?" He says with some sarcasm, I suspect. 

"Sure. Who wouldn't want to be like Carter and me? Happily married, having a --" I break off abruptly when I realize what I'm about to say.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing." I don't know why I'm so reluctant to share the news of the baby. Just being overly cautious, I guess. "Oh look! Ice cream!" We've just passed one of those corner ice cream shacks that sports a line wrapped twice around a city block. God I want some ice cream. "Do you think they have ice cream at the restaurant?" 

Luka gives me a questioning look, but then says, "I don't know, but I guess we're about to find out." Oh, we're at the restaurant already. And I'm that much closer to some food. Works for me. 

Of course, once we get inside, it becomes obvious that I'm not going to get to eat anytime soon as Susan and John are nowhere to be seen. Oh great, now we have to wait for them to show up. Then we'll have to wait for a table. And then wait for the server. Then wait for the food. "Oh God, I'm never going to get to eat."

"Are you hungry?" Luka asks. 

Well now, that's an understatement. I nod as I start rifling through my bag. There must be something to eat in here. Not enough to fill me up, but something is better than nothing. I need sugar. I need chocolate. There should be some chocolate in here somewhere. I start pulling stuff out so that I can search more easily. "Can you hold this?" I ask Luka, handing him my wallet, my cell phone, a comb, some candy bar wrappers, sunglasses, date book, an empty box of animals crackers, make-up bag, a book, keys , a toothbrush … 

"I don't know how women can carry all this … stuff." Luka says, juggling all the items in his hands. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"I know there's candy in here somewhere … aha!" I say triumphantly as I come up with a tiny bag of M&M's. Chocolate. Thank God. It's not ice cream or a four-course meal, but it'll do for now. I rip open the bag gleefully, and watch in horror as my brightly-colored candy pieces scatter all over the floor. I make a fruitless attempt to catch them and only succeed in dropping my purse, scattering the remaining contents all over the floor.

"Dammit!" And then I burst into tears. Luka is staring at me with his mouth hanging open, no doubt wondering if the real Abby has been kidnapped and replaced by a pod person. 

"Abby? Maybe you should sit down." He tucks all my junk into the crook of one arm and propels me to a chair in the corner of the waiting area. I sit down and wipe the tears while he picks up and replaces the spilled contents of my bag. He hands my refilled bag back to me, crouching down in front of the chair to inspect me. 

"Thanks," I say, still sniffling. I wipe away the tears. "Sorry." He's looking at my hand resting protectively over my belly, its usual spot these days. He looks up and me with a small smile. 

"Congratulations." I just look at him for a minute before retuning the smile. "You are pregnant, right?" 

"Yeah." I nod in affirmation. "What tipped you off?" I ask with a laugh. "Was it this lovely display here? Or was it the snacks, the naps, the mood swings, the dizzy spells?" 

He laughs. "Yes, that. And the book of baby names in your bag."

"Oh. Yeah, that might do it." We're still chuckling over that when the door opens and in walks the other half of the double date. John sees me sitting in the chair laughing, but with a tear-stained face while Luka is squatting down in front of me. He throws me a questioning look. But before I can answer, Luka straightens up and extends his hand to Carter, offering him congratulations as well. 

"Abby … told you?" John asks Luka, shaking his hand. Susan's looking on with a grin. 

"He spent more than five minutes with me, so it wasn't too hard for him to guess." I say, making everyone laugh. 

"Ah, yeah … so I guess you had enough time for a dozen cravings, several mood swings, and a total meltdown?" John suggests good naturedly coming over and helping me up, putting his arm around my waist. 

"That's about right. Only I also had time for a few memory lapses. But hey, at least I didn't fall asleep. I did spill my M&M's, though so … now that you're here, can we eat?"

He shakes his head and laughs before going off to talk to the hostess. We get seated remarkably fast, our server shows up quickly, and I somehow manage to refrain from ordering one of everything on the menu. I do, however, order a big meal and a couple of appetizers that I _might_ even be willing to share. 

"Hungry, Abby?" Susan asks after witnessing my enthusiasm for ordering dinner. 

"All Abby thinks about these days is food." Carter says as he smiles over at me. He drapes his arm around my shoulders, and I slide over on the booth to sit closer to him.

"Food is not _all_ I think about. There's more to my life than food." 

"But mostly it's all about food." 

"And sleep." 

"And food." 

"And sex." He laughs a throaty laugh and leans down to kiss me. I kiss him back and he deepens the kiss. 

"Too much information." I vaguely hear Susan say. But I'm not really paying much attention as I'm somewhat distracted by John's hand running along the outside of my thigh, up my side and then back down again. I slip my arms around his neck and really get into the kiss.

"Uh, guys? Guys? Hey!" I pull away from Carter and turn to look at Susan. She and Luka are looking at us incredulously. "We don't need a demonstration." She tells us. Luka looks uncomfortable and John is blushing as he gently pushes me away from him. So I'd practically crawled up onto his lap. Is that such a big deal? 

"Sorry." Carter says. Although apparently he's apologizing to Luka and Susan. What about me? I'm the one he just pushed away. Maybe I'll just have to sit here and pout for a while. The others chatter on about work and whatever else while I concentrate on sitting sullenly in my corner of the booth, keeping as much distant between Carter and I as possible. 

Of course, none of this is lost on him. He keeps sliding sideways glances at me, and finally he leans over and whispers, "It's a good thing I think you're cute when you're moody like this."

"I am _not_ moody." I say it loud enough that Susan and Luka stop their conversation and look over at us.

"Okay, sweetie." He says, probably trying to avoid arguing in front of our friends. 

And he is rewarded by me sticking my tongue out at him. "Don't patronize me. I can't help it. You know that." I sniffle and fight back the tears. "I hate this. I hate feeling like this. Sometimes I think this whole thing was a bad idea."

Carter looks a little stunned and Susan looks a little taken aback. No one seems to know what to say. It's Luka who finds his voice first. 

"I know it's not easy, Abby. But it's worth it. You'll see."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Susan chimes in. "You know, all the inconveniences of being a parent don't really matter at all compared to what you get in return. Of course, I wouldn't know about the pregnancy part."

I sniffle and take a deep breath. "I'll let you know." I tell her. She smiles. I smile back. The guys looked relieved. Crisis averted. And since our food seems to be making its way to our table, the other crisis of the evening seems to be under control as well. 

The rest of the meal passes pleasantly. We talk and laugh, sharing stories of work as well as our lives. Susan and Luka probably hear a lot more about the baby than they ever wanted to, but they are gracious enough to feign interest in the face of our excitement. This whole foursome is surprisingly comfortable and not nearly as weird as I expected it to feel. We might have to do this more often. 

It's over coffee (decaf for me) and dessert (ice cream!) that the distinctive sound of a pager rings out. Simultaneously, the four of us all dig for our pagers. Seems Luka is the lucky winner this time. He steps away from the table to make a quick phone call and then returns to tell us all that he's been called into work. We assure him that we'll get Susan home safe and sound and watch him depart. Some of us, namely Susan, watch a little a longer than others. 

I give her a little kick under the table and when she looks up at me, I waggle my eyebrows at her, I trait I think I've picked up from Carter. 

"What?" she asks, as if she doesn't know. 

"So Luka and I had a nice conversation on the way over here. All about you." 

"Really? What did he say about me?" 

I tip my head back and laugh. "You sound just like him. He asked me the exact same thing. I feel like I'm back in seventh grade. Maybe I can pass him a note for you in study hall." 

"Haha." Susan says. 

"You guys are hopeless," I tell her. 

"Oh come on, Abby." John says. "We we're pretty hopeless once too. And Susan did a lot to help us out, so …"

"Well, I'm not sure I can recommend dating someone from work. I mean, look where it got me." 

"Thanks a lot." But he's laughing, he knows I'm teasing him.

"Although," I say, turning to Susan. "It does sometimes feel like everyone in the ER is watching you all the time. Come to think of it, maybe you and Luka would be a good idea. Everyone would stop paying attention to the Carters. We'd be old news."

"At least until they find out about our new … news." John says. "And you know, we're gonna have to say something soon. We can't keep it a secret forever. There are probably already rumors going around." We both turn to Susan for confirmation of the rumor status.

"Don't look at me. I didn't say a word."

"Yeah, but what have you _heard_?" I ask her.

"Nothing." We both give her our best skeptical looks. "I swear. For whatever reason, no one seems to have noticed that Abby's been a little … uh …"

"Nuts?" I supply.

"I was going for something more along the lines of 'sensitive.'"

"Uh-huh." I say.

"It's just a matter of time." John says. "You know, until people figure it out." 

"You just want an excuse to tell everyone so you can run around bragging." I say.

"Not bragging. Sharing my excitement." 

"Uh-huh." I say again, not really believing him anymore than I believed Susan. He just laughs and kisses my cheek. And then distracts me with the remaining few bites of his cake. I know exactly what he's doing … but hey, it's cake. So I let myself be distracted. We linger on over coffee, even once the check has been paid. John and I are happily discussing our progress, or lack thereof, in coming up with baby names, and Susan is pretending to care. It's one of those happy, normal little moments. One of those moments when it seems like nothing will ever go wrong. But then something does. 

It's as I'm sitting and laughing with my husband and my best friend that I first feel the pain. 


	12. What Matters Most

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R. 

Rating Disclaimer: It's rated R for a reason. R means not suitable for children under 17. So if you are a child under 17, if your little sister is a child under 17, or if someone reading over your shoulder might be offended by R-rated material, you might not want to read it.

Summary: Blah, go back and read it again. 

Author's Note: Thanks for the editing, Kelly #2. Way to fink out on me, Cath. Good thing I hate you anyway. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. It's a long one. Any reviews would be most appreciated. And if you don't review … I might have to hunt you down and kill you. 

Chapter 12: What Matters Most

The pain rips through me completely unexpectedly. I gasp and suck in my breath as a whimper escapes. John and Susan turn to look at me immediately. 

"Abby, what's wrong?" I look up at John, the fear and panic in his voice echoed in his eyes. 

"I … I don't know. It hurts." I put my hand on my abdomen, letting out a shaky breath. 

"Where? Here?" He asks, bringing his hand down to cover mine. He pushes my hand out of the way, and presses gently where I indicated the pain is -- low, on the left side. 

"Ow!" Tears spring to my eyes, although whether from the pain or from fear, I'm not sure. John is frozen for a moment, undoubtedly with the same paralyzing fear that I feel. Not the baby. Please let it be something else. Please don't let anything be wrong with the baby. I can't lose this baby. I don't know who I'm sending that silent prayer to, but I'm willing to beg and plead. Just make it stop. Just let the baby be okay. 

Suddenly Carter snaps into action. "Susan, go get the Jeep and bring it around." He tosses her his keys. He turns to me. "It's okay, Abby. It's going to be okay." I don't believe him, of course. But I nod anyway, biting back more tears. "Can you walk?" He asks. 

"Yeah." I nod. We make our way across the restaurant with his arm wrapped around my waist supporting me. By the time we get to the front door, Susan is there waiting with the Jeep. John helps me into the back seat and then climbs in next to me. He barely has time to pull the door shut before Susan takes off. 

"Tell me about the pain, Abby. What's it feel like? Is it crampy?" He asks.

"No. I'm not cramping. It was more of a sharp, shooting pain." I see John catch Susan's eye in the review mirror. They're probably both thinking the same thing -- ectopic. They both suggested doing a sonogram, and I blew it off, not wanting any special treatment. But now I wish I'd listened to them. I don't think it's an ectopic pregnancy, I think if it was in the tube, this would have happened sooner. Still, if I had the sonogram, it would be one less thing to worry about.

"Show me where, exactly, the pain is." Carter commands. 

"I don't think it's in the tube. I think it's too low." I show him the source of the pain as nearly as I can pinpoint it. He reaches out to touch me, and I wince before his hand gets anywhere near me. 

"You do it." He says.

"Right here," I say, taking his hand and gently placing it over the painful spot. 

"Yeah, that is a little low." He concedes. "Still … how's the pain now?" 

"Better. More of a dull ache now than a sharp pain." 

He smiles encouragingly, hopefully. "That's probably a good sign. Any other symptoms?" He doesn't have to say symptoms of what. We both know what we're afraid of. A miscarriage. I don't even want to think the word, much less say it out loud. "Any spotting at all?" I shake my head. "Have you noticed any changes to your breasts?" Not that I noticed, but … I cup one in my hand. 

"Still swollen and sore." I say. That's important because a sudden change in the breasts can indicate a miscarriage. If breasts enlarged with the hormones of pregnancy suddenly shrink, it can mean that the pregnancy has been lost and the body has stopped producing all those pregnancy hormones. Luckily, mine are still distended and tender. 

"That's good, too." Carter says, giving me another reassuring smile. 

"I didn't mean it." I say quietly. 

"Didn't mean what?" He asks. 

"What I said before … about this being a bad idea. I didn't mean it. Oh God, this is all my fault." I start crying then and he wraps his arms around me. I carefully lie down with my head in his lap, curled up on the seat, which actually eases the lingering pain.

He smoothes my hair back lightly, comfortingly. "Abby, we don't even know that anything is wrong. But it's not your fault. Anything you might have thought, or said in the heat of the moment …"

"It's not just that. I should have listened to you. You wanted to do a sonogram, and I wouldn't let you. You wanted me to take it easy. To rest more. I should have been more careful, I should have paid more attention to what I was doing. Like this morning when I didn't eat … and then you had to practically force me to go home. You told me not to stress myself out. And I kept insisting …" 

"Abby, you didn't do anything wrong. _If _anything is even wrong. For all we know, everything is perfectly fine. Look, I was being overprotective. And just because I'm a little neurotic about it doesn't mean that you didn't do enough. You're right, pregnancy is a perfectly natural condition, you're not an invalid. And we both know that pregnancies can survive under some pretty bleak circumstances … nothing you did or didn't do would cause something to go wrong."

"Well, maybe there was one thing," I say. His brow knits together as he gives me a puzzled look. "You know …" 

"You mean?" I nod. "Abby, I don't think …"

"But there's always that risk …" I say with a sniffle, thinking about the abortion. It was a simple procedure with no complications. So there's no reason to think … but still, what if there was something-- scarring or something-- that I would have had no reason to know about until now? Or what if it's just karma coming around to get me? Maybe since I gave up my first chance, I don't deserve another one. And this is God or fate's way of telling me that. Maybe the baby's been given and taken away as some sort of life lesson. Maybe I'm being punished. And maybe _I _ deserve it. But it's not fair to John. And it's not fair to our baby. They shouldn't have to pay for my … decisions. 

"Does this feel anything like …I mean, after … ?"

I close my eyes and try to remember what I've tried so hard to forget. Compared to the emotional pain, the physical pain was minor and easy enough to block out. But I try to think back now. I remember coming home alone and being glad to find the place empty with Richard still at work. I was groggy and moving slowly, and so I crawled into bed and curled up, my body still sore and wracked with lingering cramps. No, it didn't feel anything like this. 

"No, not at all." I say to John and hear him let out a sigh of relief, as if that proves something.

But what do I know about what a miscarriage feels like? My years in OB made it clear that women experience, and describe, a wide variety of pain. Sure, I know the textbook symptoms of a miscarriage --bleeding and cramping being the hallmarks-- but maybe it can start with a sharp, stabbing pain, soon to be followed by the cramping and contracting. What if it's already happening inside of me? The thought triggers a whole new wave or fear and the tears spring to my eyes. I try to fight it, but a sob breaks loose.

"What's wrong? Is the pain worse?" Carter asks.

I shake my head against his pant leg. "No, I … I'm scared." He squeezes my hand in his and I look up to see his eyes brimming with tears. I know he's every bit as terrified as I am, but he's trying desperately to be strong for me. 

He swallows and takes a deep breath, but his voice is still shaky when he speaks. "It's going to be okay, Abby." 

Susan glances back at us and does her best to give me a reassuring smile, but I see the concern and pity in her face. "He's right, you know," Susan says turning back to the road, "I'm sure everything's going to be just fine." 

I nod and try to think positive thoughts. But that's easier said than done. 

"How _is_ the pain?" Carter asks.

To be honest, I'm not even sure. The fear is so overwhelming that it dulls everything else. I feel numb, mostly. But I take a deep breath and let it out slowly concentrating on what I feel in my abdomen. "Not bad," I tell him. The pain itself isn't that bad, it's what it might represent that worries me. "Just kind of achy, I guess." 

"Dull?" Susan asks from the driver's seat.

"Yeah. Now. It was a really sharp pain when I felt it at the restaurant. But now it just aches … like someone punched me in the stomach." 

"It doesn't really sound like the kind of pain you would have with a miscarriage," John says, his voice full of thought. He's probably busy trying to think up other, less frightening, explanations. 

"I know," I say, "But … what if that's exactly what this is." So much for positive thinking. He looks down at me and our eyes lock for a minute before I look away. 

And then I realize that the car is stopping. We're at County. Susan's pulled into the ambulance bay. Normally, I would be concerned about everyone knowing my business, but not now. I just want to make sure my baby is okay. If I have to walk through the ER with everyone staring at me to do it, I won't even think twice. And that's probably exactly what I'll have to do. 

Carter helps me out of the Jeep and we make our way to the door while Susan finds a parking place. Once we get inside, it does feel like everyone turns to look at us. Luckily everyone is only a few people. 

"Did you two get called in, too?" Haleh asks from behind the admit desk. "I think you've already missed all the excitement." 

We, of course, have no idea what she's talking about. But I guess I'm not hobbling around too much, if she thought I was here to work. 

"Actually," John starts. "Abby's not feeling too well. Is there an exam room open?" 

"Exam One," she tells him, while looking at me. She gives me a sympathetic smile, and I give her a weak one. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I think we'll be fine. But Susan will be in in a minute, will you tell her where we are?" 

"Sure thing, Dr. Carter." She says before turning to me. "I hope everything is all right." There's something about the look she gives me that makes me wonder if she knows what's going on. 

"Thanks." I say with another small smile as John leads me toward the exam room. Once there, he shuts the door and closes the blinds. He hands me a gown and busies himself setting up for an exam. He shouldn't have to do this. He shouldn't have to be the one to have to make the discovery or pass on the bad news to me. 

"John." He turns to look at me. "You don't have to do this. We can ask someone else." 

"Do you want someone else?" 

"No. But …" I look away. I don't know how to tell him that I don't want to have to hear the sadness in his voice … I don't want to put him through having to tell me that I'm losing our baby. 

"It's okay, I can handle it." Maybe he understands what I'm thinking. "Just get changed." He goes back to what he was doing, and I start to get undressed. 

"John?" 

"What's wrong?" He sounds alarmed, probably responding to the sound of my voice.

"Blood." With the pain easing, I'd started to think that maybe it was all just a false alarm. But this isn't a good sign. 

"But not much." My husband, the eternal optimist. If you ask me, any of kind of spotting is not a good sign. I know, of course, that it can be absolutely nothing to be concerned about. That's easy enough to tell a patient, but when it's your body, your baby … it's terrifying. "Climb up here, let me take a look." He says, patting the exam table.

As soon as I lie down, I realize that I'm trembling. Carter notices too. "Pain or something else?" 

"Something else. The pain's not bad." 

"Okay. Just relax." He moves my feet into the stirrups gently. "Tell me if you feel any pain."

I nod and then turn my head to the wall. Staring numbly at the blank space. I'm sorry, John, I'm sorry, Baby. Maybe I'm really not meant to be a mother. Maybe this really wasn't meant to be. I feel like such a failure. Again. As a mother. As a wife. As a woman. I must have done something wrong. This is all my fault. And it was all my idea in the first place. Stupid. Selfish. If I hadn't wanted to do this, none of us would be going through this right now. John's going to hate me. He should hate me. Why shouldn't he? I'm the one who has put us all in this mess. 

"It's okay, Abby." He says, as he puts my legs down. His voice is soft and soothing. I close my eyes tightly, trying to brace myself. I just wait for the words I'm sure he'll say next: we can try again. 'It's okay, we lost our baby, but no worries, we can try again,' I can just imagine how his voice will sound when he says it, and it breaks my heart. I try to fight back the tears, but they slip out anyway. 

"Abby?" He's moved around the side of the exam table, I can tell by his voice, soft in my ear. I refuse to turn my head. "Abby, look at me." 

I'm crying harder now. I can't bear to look at him. I don't want to see the disappointment on his face. I don't want to know just how much I've let him down. He reaches over and turns my head toward him. Wipes away my tears. 

"Sweetie, it's okay." How can it be okay? It can never be okay. We'll get through it, but it won't be okay. I open my eyes, finally and look at him. He doesn't look devastated. He looks concerned, but not sad. He smiles when he sees me looking at him. 

"It's really okay, Abby." His smile gets wider. "Everything looks fine." 

It takes me a minute to take in what he's saying. "Really?" I ask. 

"Yeah. There's no sign of active bleeding. No expelled tissue. Your cervix is closed up tight and your uterus is firm, but not contracted. Everything is just the way it should be." He brushes my hair back from my face and then runs his fingers over my cheek, smiling as he looks into my eyes. Then a concerned expression comes over his face. "How are you feeling? How's the pain? Any cramping?"

"No cramping. And there's not much pain. Just a bit of an ache." I smile tentatively at him, tears still staining my face. "Everything's really fine? The baby's okay?"

"We'll do a sonogram and make sure, but I really think so. I didn't see any signs of miscarriage."

I let out a big breath that I didn't even know I was holding in. I seek out his hand with one of my own. Our eyes are still locked together. "See? I told you it was going to be okay," he says. We're smiling over our good fortune, but the tears slip down my cheeks yet again. 

"I was so scared." I tell him.

"I know." He says, moving closer to me. He leans in and kisses my lips softly and then rests his forehead against mine. 

It's how we are when Susan knocks gently on the door and then walks in. I turn to look at her and she sees the tears on my face. "Oh, Abby …" Her voice is full of sadness.

"No, it's okay." I say quickly, smiling. "Everything looks good, right?" I say, turning to John. 

"Yeah." He looks exhausted suddenly. Drained. But relieved and happy, too. He's beaming, actually. 

"That's great." Susan easily returns our grins. "You guys wanna take a look?" She asks, gesturing to the sonogram machine that luckily enough is waiting in the corner of the exam room. 

"Absolutely." Carter says. I don't need to be convinced. Susan rolls the machine over to the side of exam table. John stands up and moves as if to take over for Susan, but she puts her hand up to stop him.

"Just stay there, Daddy. I'll do this." Her smile turns to a questioning look. "Unless you two would rather be alone." 

"No." I shake my head. "I'd like for you to do it." 

"Okay." She says, very matter-of-factly. And then she breaks into a grin. "Oh, this is so exciting." 

Carter and I look at each other and chuckle. Maybe she wasn't just pretending to be interested in all our baby babble earlier. Seems like maybe she's just as excited about this whole baby thing as we are. Well, almost. 

Susan squirts the gel on my stomach and even though I know it's cold, I still suck in my breath a bit when it hits my skin. John's brow furrows a bit.

"Just cold." I reassure him. He takes my hand as Susan moves the transducer over my abdomen.

"Okay," Susan says, "I have an image." She squints at the monitor for a minute. "Oh." She says, biting on her lip, looking almost as if she wants to cry. 

"Susan!" She looks over at me. 

"Are you gonna let _us _see?" John asks. Susan has the monitor turned toward her, but we'd kind of like to see what's going on ourselves. 

"It is our baby, you know." I tell her. 

"Oh, sorry." She says with a giggle, as she turns the machine toward us. Of course, in doing so, she moves the transducer off my stomach, so there's not much to see when we finally get a look at the screen. 

But then … suddenly … there it is. My uterus. And nestled safely inside of it, a tiny embryo with a good, strong heartbeat. 

My baby. Hi, Baby. I'm your mommy. 

Oh God, I'm a mommy. That's my child on the screen, all its strength and fragility captured in black and white. The blinking of its heartbeat erasing all the fear. For those rhythmic blinks represent life. My baby's life. Life itself. Growing inside of me. It's an awesome responsibility. It's an incredible privilege. It's a miracle. 

All those years in OB and the wonder of childbirth, the miracle of life, become common place. But now, being on this side of the sonogram after years of watching other women's faces fill with joy at the sight of their child, I finally feel it. What I thought I would never have is happening. It's real. And I don't think I realized just how much I wanted it until this very moment. 

With a heartbeat, my child's heartbeat, everything has changed. I knew I wanted this baby. I knew I loved this baby. But now I know that there is nothing that I wouldn't do, nothing that I wouldn't sacrifice for my baby … my little dream come true. Now I understand mothers who put themselves in harm's way to protect their child. Now I understand mothers who kill to protect their child. Suddenly there's one thing in my life that matters more than everything else put together. And I'm staring in wonder at its image on the screen before me. Amazing how I can feel so attached to something that's barely an inch long and is, as of yet, unrecognizable as the baby it will soon be. But there's that unmistakable heartbeat. And I'm blown away. 

"Oh." Is all I manage to croak out in my choked-up, speechless state. John squeezes my hand, I turn to look at him. Through his tears, he smiles a smile that could light up the entire city. The entire city at Christmas, even. And I can only imagine that I look much same.

"Yeah." John gives my hand another squeeze. He sounds every bit as overwhelmed as I feel. "That's our baby." His voice is … awestruck. 

"It's beautiful." I say as I bite my lip, trying to stem the flow of tears. "Look at that heartbeat. So strong. In something so tiny. It's just amazing." You would think I'd never seen a sonogram before. Of course the way Susan and John are staring transfixed, you would think they hadn't either. "Of course the baby does look something like a tadpole right now."

"But it's our tadpole." John says.

"And that makes it beautiful." I say.

"A tadpole?" Susan asks. "I kinda thought it looked like a peanut." 

"Aww, our little peanut." I say, preferring 'peanut' to 'tadpole.' I turn to look at Carter and find him squinting at the screen. 

"It kinda looks like Flubber." 

"What?" I ask.

"You know, Flubber. That Disney movie. Remake of _The Absent-Minded Professor_. He's a chemist and he accidentally makes Flubber." 

"Oh yeah." Susan says. "The flubber bounces around. And there's a basketball game and the players put it on their shoes. You're right, it does kind of look like Flubber. Big round head-body type thing, stubby arms and legs, kind of a star shape like the flubber when it was dancing around the house."

"See? Flubber. If only it was green." 

"Green dancing _flubber_? What?" I'm confused.

"In the remake, the flubber is green … and it … dances." Susan explains.

"How do you two know all this?" I ask. 

"Well, I watched the movies with Susie, I don't know what his excuse is."

"Flubber kind of looks like green Jell-o now that I think of it. Except less jiggly and more bouncy." Carter says for some unbeknown reason. 

"Now you think our baby looks like a Jell-o Jiggler?"

"No, I think it looks like Flubber. Hi, Flubber." He says, waving at the screen. 

"Oh, you're not going to call the baby that. God, I thought I was the crazy one in this marriage." 

Susan is smiling over at us. "Glad to see you two are back to your old selves." 

"Well, now that the baby's okay …" I say. 

"Does everything else look okay? Do you see anything that could explain Abby's pain and the spotting?" 

As soon as I saw the baby's heartbeat on the monitor, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I pretty much forgot all about the pain that brought me to this moment. I forgot to be worried about anything else once I saw that the little one was safe and sound. But now that worry returns. The baby is okay right now, but what if something else is going on inside of me that will threaten the baby's health and safety?

"Actually," Susan says, moving the transducer away from … 'Flubber' and over to the opposite side of my uterus. "I think I might have. Do you see that?" She asks pointing to a small, dark spot low on the left side of my uterus. 

"A ruptured cyst?" I ask. 

"Yeah, I think so." 

That seems to be the consensus. A tiny cyst on the inside uterine wall that broke. A small, fluid-filled sac … like a blister on the uterus. A cyst can be there for years and never be noticed. Totally benign, perfectly harmless. And you would never even know that one exists until something, in my case a uterus expanding with pregnancy, causes it to break. It would explain the sharp pain that resolved into a dull ache, as well as the spotting. And it's not at all dangerous for me or the baby. 

I let out a long, shuddery sigh. Everything is going to be all right now. My baby's fine. I'm fine. 

Carter and I are torn between grinning at each other and staring at the screen in amazement, grateful for our good fortune. 

"Everything looks great." Susan says. She's been puttering around with the machine. Taking measurements and checking to make sure that's all is as it should be. "The baby looks terrific. No abnormalities, development is right on track. There's plenty of amniotic fluid, good blood flow in the umbilical cord, placenta is in a good location. Textbook perfect pregnancy. And you don't even have any morning sickness. Maybe this is your true calling in life." 

"What?" I ask, heavy on the sarcasm. "Growing babies?" 

"Yeah, seems like you were born to do it. You guys should have a whole bunch." 

"Hey, yeah!" Carter says, all boundless enthusiasm. I haven't seem him this excited since I offered to get his name tattooed on my arm.

"Don't get any ideas." I tell him. "I'm probably gonna get repaid, in spades, for this nice, easy first trimester. Either the third trimester will be hell or I'll have a three-day long labor." 

"Well, what if the third trimester isn't so bad and you don't have a three-day long labor? Then can we have lots?"

"If by 'lots' you mean two, that would be fine." 

"Abby, two is not 'lots.' Two is a couple." 

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Six has a nice ring to it."

"Oh, there you go, Abby." Susan chimes in. "You can have half a dozen little Carters trailing around after you." 

"I don't think so." I tell her. I turn to John. "Six?!? You're kidding right?" 

"Well …"

"Okay … me and how many of your other wives are going to have these six kids?" 

"So that's a no on the six kids?" 

"Uh … yeah."

"Well how about five?"

"How about one?" 

"Four?"

"Two?" 

"Three?" 

"Three? Well … three might work." 

"With an option for a fourth?" 

"Four? How did we get back to that? Four kids? Nobody has four kids anymore."

"Oh come on, Ab. You said one or two, I said five or six. So three or _maybe _four … that's a good compromise, right?"

"Easy for you to say."

"Point taken." 

"But … if things are going okay--"

"Okay?" 

"Yeah, you know, if I have good pregnancies, manageable births … if our kids don't turn out to be brats … then three or maybe even four … well, I'll consider it, anyway."

"Hey guys?" Susan asks, looking over at us with amusement. "Don't you think you're getting a bit ahead of yourselves there?"

"You started it." I remind her. 

"Oh yeah. Sorry. But hey, before you guys plan all your kids, do you wanna know when _this_ baby is due?"

"Well, I have a pretty good idea already." I tell her. "I mean, I can count." 

"You calculated the due date?" Carter asks.

"Yeah."

"So when's she due?" I don't know if the she in question is me or the baby, since he generally refers to our little one as she. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway since I'm due to give birth and the baby's due to be born. And I guess the fact that _I_ already know when this baby is due is of no matter either. 

"How does February 1st sound for having a baby?"

"February 1st. Just like the book said." Carter says.

"What book?" I ask him. 

"One of the pregnancy books. It has a whole section on figuring out your due date." 

"I didn't need a book to figure out my due date."

"Did you come up with the same date?" 

"Well, yeah … I knew it was around the end of January or beginning of February. Not that it matters since babies come when they are ready."

"Well, yeah but you need to have some idea of when to expect them."

"Well, I had some idea. All I had to do was add nine months to the night you knocked me up."

"Abby." He says, probably objecting to my terminology. But I use it … endearingly, in the best possible way. 

"Well," Susan says, "since all the dates match up, I guess it's official … less than seven months and the newest little Carter will be here." She pats my belly lightly after wiping off the gel. 

"Yeah." John and I both say somewhat wistfully as we watch Susan turn off the monitor causing the images of our child to disappear. Susan catches the look on our faces. 

"Don't worry, I made you a tape. And printed some pictures." She hands me the strip of black and white pictures. "Congratulations. I'm so glad that everything's all right." She leaves then, giving John and I a chance to be alone with our good news. Mostly we just stare at the sonogram pictures. 

"Seven months. Less than seven months. Six months if our little Flubber decides to show up early." John finally says. I roll my eyes at the new nickname that he's bestowed … or brandished upon our child. 

"It seems like forever. Such a long time to wait to see this little person. On the other hand …"

"There's a lot to do to get ready, so it's going to go by fast." He says, giving me a kiss on the temple. "Why don't you get dressed, and we'll get out of here." 

"Yeah, I'm definitely ready to get home." 

"Well, Susan ran off and she still has my keys, so I'm gonna go find her. See where she stuck the Jeep. Find out if she's ready to go, too." 

"Okay." He backs out the door, smiling at me the whole way. He'll have probably told the whole ER our news by the time I get out there. Oh well. Somehow it's starting to seem like maybe this is the right time. I think I'm too relieved … too happy to not share this news. I pull on my clothes and tidy up the room --force of habit, I guess. I carefully put the video and the pictures in my bag for safe keeping before heading out the door to find John. And bumping right into Luka. 

"Abby." He looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine." It's probably the first time that I haven't minded being asked that question. And for once I'm happy to answer it. And with a smile on my face instead of a barely contained grimace. I guess that's what a close call can do for you. Put things in perspective. 

"And … the baby?" He asks carefully. 

"The baby's fine. Perfect, in fact." He gets the full-on grin with that answer. And he smiles right back at me.

"Good. I'm happy to hear that." 

"Wanna see a picture?" I ask. 

"Sure." 

I reach into my bag and pull out the long strip of pictures, so that Luka can marvel at them with me. He looks on with interest, but I don't know if he's actually interested or just humoring me. Somehow I think this sets the tone for future events. Namely me showing up and making everyone admire baby pictures while I blather on about how adorable my child is. 'Here's the baby crying, here's the baby spitting up, here's the baby's poopy diapers.' Somehow I don't think our friends are going to appreciate it as much as we will. But these sonogram pictures are pretty cool. Luka and I are still laughing over them when I catch sight of John at the admit desk. His brow furrows and he gives me a questioning look. I excuse myself from Luka, who is no doubt eternally grateful for that and walk over to Carter.

"You keep that up, Abby, and people are going to figure it out. We sneak into an exam room and you come out and start showing off a strip of pictures. They're all medical professionals, it won't take them long to put it together." 

"I don't care." 

"Since when? You were the one who did want anyone to know."

"Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe it's time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I shrug. 

"Can I have those?" He asks, gesturing to the pictures. He looks them over quickly before carefully ripping one off the bottom. One that's almost identical to the one above it. He roots around on the desk until he comes up with a red marker. I think I know what he has in mind. 

"Don't you dare write 'Flubber' on there." 

He gives me a grin as he begins writing on the white border around the picture. I peer over his shoulder as he neatly letters the words 'Baby Carter' across the top, adding 'Due Feb. 1' across the bottom.

"Now what?" I ask. 

"Well, I suppose we could make copies and start passing them out, but I thought I'd go a less direct route." I watch him walk over to the bulletin board and find a thumbtack. Then he tacks the picture up right in the middle of the board, over some bright green piece of paper where everyone is sure to see it. He whistles his way back over to me. "It shouldn't take long." 

In fact, we've already generated enough interest, and aroused enough suspicion I would imagine, that people are already heading in that direction. Suddenly this doesn't seem like the best idea. We're about to be barraged by all kinds of good wishes. It's a little scary. Then again, I guess they had to find out sooner or later. And they would probably make a fuss no matter what. 

Haleh and Chuny are over there now. They check out the newly posted announcement and then turn to look at us. Carter's all smiles, and I've taken to biting on my lip. Here they come. Oh, geez, here we go.

"Abby." Haleh is standing in front of me. "Oh girl, I knew it! Congratulations!" She pulls me into an excited hug.

"How did you know?" 

"Hmm, I've had four of my own. I think I know pregnancy when I see it." 

"See?" Carter whispers in my ear. "_Some_ people have four."

I give him a look that clearly says 'shut the hell up.'

"Congratulations, Dr. Carter." Haleh says. 

"Yeah, way to go Carter." Chuny congratulates him with a slug on the arm. He looks a little embarrassed. Happy, though.

"Abby, I'm so happy for you." Another hug. This one from Chuny. "Did you just find out?" 

"No," I tell her. "We've known for … a while." 

"But this was our first sonogram." Carter informs them. 

"So who knows?" Haleh asks. "I'll bet Dr. Lewis knows. Does she know?" 

"And Kovac must know, too." Guess she saw me showing him the pictures.

"Well, Luka just found out. Susan's known … for a couple weeks."

"So," Chuny says, "Did you guys have to try long?" 

"Oh yeah," I say sarcastically, "About ten minutes."

"Abby!" Carter gives me a look.

"What?"

"It wasn't ten minutes. It's _never_ ten minutes. Well, unless it _has _to be or you want it to be, but even then--"

"That's not what I meant. I didn't mean _that_ was ten minutes." 

"Oh." I roll my eyes at his easily bruised male ego. God forbid I should poke fun at his prowess in the bedroom. Or the shower. Or the kitchen. Or the empty exam room. Whatever. 

"I just meant … no, we didn't try for long." I turn to Chuny with a smile and shrug. "We just sort of decided, spur of the moment, to start trying. We didn't really think it would happen right away."

"But it did." Carter adds.

"Yeah."

"Well, you're lucky." Chuny says. "My cousin's been trying for four years. And nothing. She's on some new fertility drug now and it's making her fat. And a bitch. You know, she called me last week and …"

"If you'll excuse us," Haleh says, interrupting Chuny and attempting to lead her away.

"Have to get back to your patients?" I ask.

"No, we have to go spread the word." Haleh says.

"I can get behind that, girl." Chuny says, letting herself be led down the hall.

"Which side you want?" They head down the hall arguing over who gets to tell our news to which rooms. 

"Maybe we should get out of here now while we still can." I suggest. 

"Good idea." Of course we still have to find Susan, and by the time we do, the rumor mill has seen to it that everyone has heard the news. We get stopped every two feet for someone to congratulate us or ask nosey questions. After what seems like an eternity, we end up back where we started, at the admit desk, with a crowd gathered around us. After a while it's too much, and I just want to go. I tug on John's sleeve like a little kid. When he looks at me, my eyes are imploring him to take me home. 

"Well everyone," He starts. "We appreciate all your warm wishes and all your … interest." Nicer than saying nosiness. "But Abby … and the baby, have had a long day. So we should really get home." 

"What's going on here?" An unmistakable voice demands. 

"I didn't even know she was here tonight." I say to Susan.

"She's _always_ here." Susan says.

"Are you people getting paid to stand around and chit-chat? I don't think so. Get back to work!" Weaver barks out the command, scattering everyone far and wide, like birds at the sound of a gunshot. Then she turns to the three of us. "Well? What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? There are patients to see." 

"We're not on tonight, Kerry." John tells her. 

"Well then what the hell are you doing here?"

"Abby and Carter are having a baby!" Susan blurts out. "Sorry, I've been dying to tell someone."

"Well, she doesn't look like she's having it right now, so why don't all get to work or get out." Romano. Where did he come from? "Kerry, a word with you. Now." 

"John. Abby. Congratulations." Her voice is the softer, kinder one not often heard around here.

"Thanks, Dr. Weaver." 

"I said _now_, Kerry. Not when the love fest is over." 

"Oh, just hold your water, Robert. I'll be right there." 

And then it's just the three of us again. Four of us, if you count the baby. Three and a half? Of course, it's not really a half yet … more like a third … 

"Abby? Abby? Are you there?" 

"Huh?" 

"I was just saying, we'd better go while we can." Carter says. "You ladies ready?"

"Well, I was going to say good-bye to Luka. I have to go pick up Susie at camp tomorrow and …" 

"You can call him." I say, grabbing Susan's arm and heading toward the door. I don't want to get stuck here playing Twenty Questions again. 

We manage to make it to the car relatively unscathed, save for Malik calling out his congratulations from across the ambulance bay. I didn't catch the whole thing, but it was definitely something along the lines of Chuny's 'way to go.' And I definitely heard, "It's about time already." Something makes me suspect that there's a secret pool going on somewhere. 

"Susan," I ask once we are in the Jeep on our way home, "Are people betting on how long it would take us to have a baby?" 

"Oh sure, Abby. When, how many, the names and birth weights. Yeah, all we do is sit around and think about you and Carter. God … the world revolves around you, I guess."

"So how much are you in for?"

"Fifty."

"Are you winning?"

"It's looking pretty good so far."

"Yeah, but you have insider information."

"But I didn't then."

"How long has it been going on?"

"Since you got married. Malik's mad because he was betting on a wedding night baby." 

"Sorry, we had to disappoint." I look over at Carter who is not saying a word, just grinning at the absurdity of the conversation.

We spend the rest of the ride to Susan's place discussing her plans for bringing Susie to stay with her. Permanently, if Susan has her way. She's of the opinion that Carter and I should spend some time with Susie … practice, she says. Frankly, I think she's just looking for baby-sitters. At any rate, we drop her off, promising to see her in a few days once she and Susie are settled in. 

And then there's just the short ride home. We spend it in a comfortable silence. And it's not until we've walked in the door to our home that it hits me. I realize then how differently this evening could have ended. We could have been walking in this door sad and devastated, my body still weak and shaky from having suffered a miscarriage. We could be just the two of us again. No marathon session of congratulations from our friends. No video keepsake and sonogram pictures to pore over. No plans to make for a future with our child. I sink down wearily on the couch, shuddering at the thought of what it would have been like to come home to that reality. And the tears spill down my face once again, tears for what could have been. And the tears turn into wracking sobs, ripping through me. And I can't seem to stop. All the emotion I tried so hard to hold in all night spills over. 

"Abby? What's wrong?" And then he's there, pulling me into his arms, holding on tight until I can finally stop crying enough to speak. 

"We could've lost our baby tonight." 

"But we didn't."

"But we could have."

"The baby was never in any danger, sweetie." 

"But I didn't know that. And I've never been so scared in my life." 

"I know." 

"It's weird, you know?" 

"What?"

"How differently you can see something when your perspective shifts." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well … the first time I was pregnant, I just wanted so much to … not be. It wasn't a miracle, it was a disaster. It was a pregnancy, not a baby. I didn't -- couldn't -- think of it that way -- even though I knew the potential. So I gave up that opportunity. And I didn't think I'd ever have another chance. But now I do. And … it's just hard to imagine that what I voluntarily gave up then, I would have been devastated to lose now."

"You really want this, huh?"

"Of course I want this." 

"I know … I guess … well, until this moment, I just wasn't sure that you wanted it as much as I do. I didn't realize just how much you really do want this baby until tonight."

"I don't think I realized how much I wanted it until tonight, either. I always thought I couldn't … shouldn't have kids. So I spent a lot of years trying to convince myself that I didn't even want it. But sometimes … no matter what your heart says … well, 'the heart wants what it wants.'"

"Emily Dickinson?"

"Yeah." 

"Hey. Emily's a nice name."

"Yeah, I've always loved that name."

"Really?" He asks.

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I don't know … it's just kind of … girly."

"Well, I'm a girl. Or did you forget?"

"No, believe me, I didn't forget. But if you like Emily and I like Emily …" He raises his eyebrows at me. "It couldn't be that easy, could it?" 

"What?"

"Picking a name."

"I'm not sure I want to name the baby Emily." 

"Why not?" 

"Well, Emily doesn't sound like a very good boy's name." 

"What if Flubber is a girl?"

"Would you stop calling it that?" 

"Sure. Once we pick a name. What's wrong with Emily? You know, if it's a girl?"

"Too popular."

"So you want something unique? You're not going to make something up are you?"

"No, I'm just not sure I want to choose the most popular names out there. I don't know. We've got plenty of time to think about it, anyway. But right now … it's been a long day. The baby and I are tired. We want to go to bed." 

"You want me to take you to bed?"

"Please." 

"I thought you'd never ask." I know that tone of voice.

"Carter … did you miss the part where I said I was tired?"

"No, but you're always tired. That never stops us."

"I know. But … well, it's just..."

"Oh! God, I'm sorry, Ab. I wasn't thinking. You've been through a lot tonight. And you're probably still sore, of course you wouldn't feel up to it."

"No, it's not that. I feel fine. It's just … well …"

"What?"

"I don't know. I kinda expected you to want to put me in a bubble." Was kinda counting on it, really.

"You're worried about the baby."

"I just don't want to take any chances anymore. No more skipping meals. No more stress. I'm definitely cutting back on my shifts. I'm gonna rest more and eat right."

"That's good, Abby." He says, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. He lifts my hair away from my neck and starts planting kisses there too. "But you know, I don't really think sex is considered risky."

"Really?" One of his hands is moving up and down my thigh, the other is rubbing my back.

"Actually, I've heard it's a good thing."

"You don't say." His lips finding their way along my collar bone is certainly a good thing.

"Sure. It keeps Mommy and Daddy close and connected. And therefore, happier, less stressed out. So that's _good_ for the baby." 

"So we should do it for the baby." 

"That's what I'm saying."

"Well, if it's for the baby …" As if his hands up my shirt aren't quite enough to convince me. 

He moves away from me and stands up. Beckons for me to follow him which, of course, I do. I follow him into the bathroom where he turns on the water in the tub, carefully adjusting the temperature. 

"I guess we're having a bath." I say. 

"Well, you're having a bath." He pulls me closer to where he sits on the edge of the tub and begins carefully removing my clothes. The loose fitting pants slip over my hips and fall to the floor. He carefully unbuttons my shirt, letting it slip from my shoulders and down my arms to join my pants on the floor which leaves me standing there in nothing but my panties. 

"You should really think about a bra, Abby." John advises me. "You'll be glad later if you give those things some support now." 

"Well, these _things_ don't fit in any of my bras anymore." 

"So get new ones." He suggests as he reaches out to run his finger tips up along my ribs and back down again. Over to my belly where he stops and looks up at me. For a long moment we just gaze into each other's eyes, sharing this moment of joy and gratitude for our good fortune. Seems that with this baby, we are getting some good luck for a change. John leans forward and kisses my already slightly rounded belly tenderly. 

"Eww." He grimaces, curling up his lips.

"What?"

"I think Susan missed a spot." Huh? Oh, the gel from the sonogram.

"Not so tasty?" I ask.

"Not nearly as good as that cherry flavored body foam. Do we have any more of that?" 

"I don't think so."

"How about whipped cream? With some maraschino cherries, it would be almost the same thing."

"I thought I was getting in the bath. After all that, I'd need another one."

"We could skip the bath and get dirty on the floor instead." 

"And then spend the rest of the night cleaning up? You know, no one ever has to worry about that in those cheesy romance novels. Or in movies. You know, they always show people having wild, kinky sex, but no one is ever scrubbing the bathroom floor naked after all the fun is over."

Carter is looking at me and shaking his head. "You think too much, you know that? And please don't give me any more mental images of you scrubbing the floor naked." 

"I'm naked now."

"Almost."

I slip off my panties. "Now I'm naked."

"But you're not scrubbing the floor." 

I look at him for a minute. Then _I_ shake _my_ head. "You're twisted, you know that?" I laugh.

"Your bath is ready." He holds out his hand to me and helps me step in. I get settled and wait for him to join me. But he just rolls up his sleeves and reaches for the bath sponge. 

"You're not getting in?"

"Not tonight." 

"What? Is this practice?"

"Practice? No, if I wanted to practice for being a daddy, you'd have to be screaming and shrieking, or at least kicking and splashing." 

"Hmm … I don't think so. And I'm not going to poop in the tub, either." 

"Gross. But … good to know, I guess."

"Now that you know, do you want to come in?"

"I told you, not tonight." 

He shakes his head as he begins washing me off slowly, deliberately. Arms and legs, back and front. Paying careful attention to the front. Running the sponge all around my belly, up over my ribcage, and in between my breasts. Occasionally he leans over to kiss some patch of skin that he can reach. I turn my head toward him so that our lips can meet in a sweet kiss. As the kiss grows deeper, the sponge is apparently forgotten as I feel the warmth of his hand on my skin. We kiss each other greedily, hungrily and his hand finds its way to my breast where he gently kneads and rubs, causing me to sigh into his mouth. His tongue pushes deeper into my mouth and his hand dips lower on my body. 

"John." I say breathlessly when our lips finally part. "I think it's time for me to get out." 

"You getting cold?" He asks as he smoothes back my hair.

"No. More like I'm getting hot." 

"Oh." He raises his eyebrows at me and then grins. 

He helps me out of the tub and wraps a towel around me. And while he dries me off, I do my best to help relieve him of his clothing. It's all wet now anyway, so he might as well take it off. Once I'm dry and he's naked, we stumble our way across the bedroom. He's guiding me as I walk backwards toward the bed, busily kissing all over his chest now that it's bare. With one hand on the small of my back, he carefully helps me lower myself to the bed, taking his place next to me. We seem to be a tangle of arms and legs. And lips. His lips find mine once again as he rolls over onto his back, bringing me along with him.

I lie on top of him, running my fingers through his hair, slipping my tongue into his mouth while his hands roam over my back and down to my butt. I can't help but marvel at the fact that no matter how much a part of our routine this is, it never becomes … routine. It's always different , it's always special. Tonight even more so. Because we're once again celebrating the life that we created. We're celebrating the fact that our baby is safe and healthy. And what better way to celebrate than by recreating the act that created the child? 

After all the touchy-feely in the bathtub, I find myself anxious to get to the main event. A slight shift in position confirms for me that Carter, too, is ready and able. Well, that I pretty much know at a glance when he was helping me out of the tub. But now, not wanting to wait any longer, I sit up and straddle his hips. I reach for him and help him find the right angle to join us together as one. And when he's inside of me, I feel a sense of comfort, of completeness that I searched my whole life for. I run my hands over his chest, feeling him thrusting inside of me, gazing upon his face so full of love for me. His hands explore my body -- my thighs, my butt, my boobs … but seem to keep to returning to my belly, the site of the most magical event in our lives. The physical sensations running through my body feel wonderful, but they are nothing compared to the intensity of the emotion that I feel for this man who is, in every way, a part of me. All I have to do is look down at his face to know that he feels the same way. 

"Abby … Abby." He's murmuring my name quietly for once, even as I feel his passion building. His hands on my back pull my body down so that I am lying on his chest. He wraps his arms tight around me. We find each other's lips and fall into a deep kiss, pushing us both over the edge. 

We lie quietly, contentedly in each other's arms for a long time. Finally we pull the covers up over us and snuggle up together in our warm little cocoon. 

"I love you." I say as he wraps his arms around me once again and pulls me close to him. 

"I love you, too." 

"I know I don't always say it enough … but I feel it. Always. And tonight … more than ever. I was so scared … and I don't know what I would have done without you." 

He kisses the top of my head. His hand strokes my belly. "There's no place else I would ever want to be, Abby. Everything that matters most in the world is right here in my arms." 

Yeah, I couldn't have said it better myself. I close my eyes, knowing that tonight I'll sleep peacefully because my baby -- my family -- is safe, happy, loved. And that is definitely what matters most. 


	13. Going to Grandma's

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R. And I do mean R … so if R-rated material is offensive to you or anyone else who might be reading this over your shoulder … stop and turn back now. Or stop and turn back when you get the offensive parts. You know, whatever.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Thanks for the reviews. And Kel -- thanks for the editing. 

~*~*~*~

A Dream Life

Chapter 13: Going to Grandma's 

"Are you okay?" I ask, glancing over at Abby. 

"If you ask me that one more time, I'm going to kick you." 

I laugh because I'd like to see her try it. We're cruising along in the Jeep. And she's driving. So kicking me would be a neat trick. But watching her knuckles get white as she grips the steering wheel, and seeing her face looking slightly green has me a bit nervous. 

"Maybe I should drive." I suggest. "The whole driving thing doesn't seem to be helping."

"Carsick!" She yells. "This is absurd. I've never gotten motion sickness before in my life." 

"Well, you're pregnant now." 

"No really?" Total sarcasm. "Thanks. I was wondering why I hadn't had my period in four months. So glad you could clear it up for me." 

I sigh. It just kinda slips out. I know she can't help it, but sometimes these mood swings are killer. "I just meant that your body is under a lot of stress and going through all those changes, of course you're going to react differently to things."

"Oh, _of course _I am. I can't believe that I've barely had a hint of morning sickness, but put me in the car for a couple hours …"

"Maybe it was the Squeaky Cheese." I suggest.

She grips the wheel a little tighter. "Don't mention food." She says through clenched teeth. 

"There's a rest stop coming up. Let's take a break." I'm really starting to get nervous that she's going to suddenly start projectile vomiting and drive us right into an overpass or something. 

"Fine." She says, pulling off the highway. She parks the car and then sits very still, taking several deep breaths. 

"Abby, this is ridiculous. Just go throw up. You'll feel better." 

"I don't want to throw up."

"Well, I know you don't, but it would be better than feeling like this." 

"I'm not going to throw up. I don't want to waste all those nutrients that the baby needs."

"I don't think the baby will be too deprived between here and Minneapolis. It's only another hour or so."

"No, I'm not going to do it. I fought to not throw up all this time, and if I wait just a little bit longer, it'll go away. That way the baby won't be deprived and I won't have to start all over. Believe me -- an empty stomach will make me feel just as bad." 

"Okay, okay. Don't throw up. It's fine with me. Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air?" 

"Yeah, okay." She agrees and we leave the car, taking a slow stroll through the park-like setting of the rest stop. This trip has gotten off to a rather inauspicious beginning. I hope it doesn't turn out to be a bad idea all the way around. I had been the one to suggest the road trip. Abby thought it was time to tell her family about the baby, and I suggested doing it in person, rather than over the phone. We both have the weekend off, a fairly rare occurrence, and what could be more fun than a little trip? So we'd packed up some stuff and jumped in the Jeep. We did fine the first couple hours. Then we stopped for a potty break in Wisconsin, bought some of the state's infamous cheese curds and after Abby polished off the bag, she was suddenly overcome with this "motion sickness." I think it sounds more like "ate too much cheese" sickness, but whatever she says goes these days. 

"Are you feeling better?" I ask her after a few minutes. The color has returned to her face. Or maybe the green has just disappeared. Whatever, she looks better. 

"Yeah. I feel kinda …" 

"What?"

"Hungry?" I laugh. Even Abby's stomach is suffering from mood swings, apparently. 

"Maybe there are vending machines inside." 

"Well, I need to pee anyway, so I guess we might as well go check it out." 

Sure enough the rest stop features a couple of vending machines just bursting with a whole array of junk food. While Abby's in the bathroom, I get a couple cans of soda and try to choose the healthiest of the snacks -- granola bars and pretzels. 

"I need chocolate." Abby announces as she appears by my side. "Oh! Look … Peanut Butter Cups! Snickers! Kit Kats! Twix!" She's practically drooling. "Oh!" Geez, she's getting awfully excited. She doesn't even get this ecstatic over sex.

"Here." I say, handing over a few dollar bills, watching her gleefully feed them to the vending machine in exchange for her beloved candy bars. And to think she was on the verge of vomiting twenty minutes ago. I can't imagine all that chocolate is going to do anything to help her 'motion sickness.' But if there's one rule I've come to live by these past few weeks it would have to be never argue with your pregnant wife. Well, okay, maybe I haven't exactly mastered that rule yet. But I'm working on it. 

We get back on the road with me driving and Abby lovingly cradling her precious chocolate bars. Until she decides which one to eat first. And then she dives in with unabashed joy. I really fear for our child sometimes. It's going to come out with a list of probable addictions a mile along. And I'm beginning to think that ice cream and chocolate will top the list. If Abby keeps this up, we'll have to add hot fudge sauce to the baby bottles. I laugh at the thought.

"What?" Abby asks.

"Nothing." I tell her. "How are those candy bars?" 

"Mmm." She moans. "Good."

"I guess you're feeling better?" 

"Oh, yeah." She says, leaning over toward me to give me a little kiss on the side of my mouth. Hey, I have to watch the road. But I still get a faint taste of Kit Kat bar. Not bad. 

"Abby …" I say, as she starts kissing along my jaw line, and running her hand down my chest. "Don't start that. Please." I forgot that chocolate has this … amorous effect on her these days. 

"Start what?" She asks. The picture of innocence. As she runs her tongue around my ear lobe. And her hand dips lower.

"Abby, please. I'm trying to drive. Get back in your own seat." 

"Oh come on, we're on the highway. All you have to do is steer." 

"Yeah, we're on the highway. In broad daylight. All we have to do it pass big rig and some trucker can get an eyeful of … your head in my lap." 

"It's not like the roof isn't on the car … unlike the last time."

"Yeah, when I almost drove off the road. Listen, just keep your hands and your … lips to yourself, please." With one hand I push back toward the passenger seat. "And put your seatbelt back on. Don't you know how dangerous this is?" That seems to get her attention. 

"I didn't think about that." She says, sounding chastised and guilty as she settles into her seat and clips her seatbelt firmly into place. "I'm supposed to be extra careful these days, and there I was creating a hazard. Sorry, kiddo." She says, patting her belly. 

"I'm sure the baby will forgive you. Of course now you've got me all hot and bothered so you'll have to make that up to me later." 

"I'll make it up to you now."

"Huh? Didn't you just decide that you need to keep that seatbelt on? Can't take a chance on you and the baby being tossed through the windshield. I mean, once the baby's born, you're not gonna just toss it in the backseat and hope for the best are you? Because --"

"John! I was just gonna give you some of my chocolate. I'm gonna have to have some more so …"

"Do you really think you should be eating all that chocolate?" 

"I knew it. I knew it. You think I'm fat."

"What?"

"You don't want me eating any more chocolate because you think I'm getting fat."

"I don't want you eating any more chocolate because it's going to make you sick."

"Oh." She sounds somewhat mollified. "But you think I'm fat too, don't you?"

"No! I don't think you're fat." God I love her, but sometimes I wish this Jeep had a trunk to lock her in. 

"Whatever." 

"Here." I say, handing her the cell phone. "Call your mother." 

"Why? To tell her you think I'm fat and that I disgust you so much that you just turned down the one thing I thought you would never, ever turn down?"

"No, just call her and tell her that we'll be there soon." 

"I don't want to call my mother. It's supposed to be a surprise, remember?"

"Yeah, and I thought we should have called before we left Chicago, remember? What if she's not home?"

"What? Are you gonna turn around and go back to Chicago now?" 

"No, but … what if she _is_ home? Don't you think she might like some advanced warning?" 

"Why?"

"I don't know, Abby. What if the apartment is a mess? What if she's in the middle of something? I mean, you really wouldn't want to interrupt your mom in the middle of … an 'afternoon delight' would you?"

"Oh, gross. Yuck. She's my _mom_, dude."

"My point exactly. You don't really want her answering the door half naked, do you?" 

"God! Stop it. What's wrong with you?"

"What? It's possible. You don't think your mom could have a boyfriend?"

"She doesn't have a boyfriend."

"She could. I mean, she's on her meds. She's stable. She's sweet and fun and attractive."

"Oh my God, please tell me you don't have some sort of fucked up fantasies about Maggie." 

"Abby! Of course not. I'm just pointing out that she has plenty of attractive qualities, there's no reason that she couldn't be …" 

"Spending the afternoon banging some random guy that she met on the bus? She doesn't do that when she's on her meds." 

"Geez, Ab. You think you might considering cleaning up that mouth of yours before the baby gets here?" 

"I'm not even gonna touch that one. You can just insert your own dirty joke about my filthy mouth." 

"Abby!" 

"I'll bet you a week's worth of dinner duty that my mom is at home, alone, this afternoon making lasagna for my brother."

"You talked to her?"

"No."

"You talked to Eric."

"Maybe."

"Did you tell him?"

"Just that we're coming to town. And that I wanted to make sure Mom would be home. So he called her and asked her to make him homemade lasagna for dinner. The sauce takes all afternoon. So where's she gonna go?" 

"That's very sneaky."

"I know. Especially since the lasagna was my idea." 

"You could have told me."

"Nah, it's more fun to watch you get all wound up." She gives me that cute little mischievous grin of hers.

"Whatever makes you happy." I tell her. But I refrain from reaching over and ruffling her hair because she hates that. I just watch her out of the corner of my eye as she turns up the radio and starts singing along. She looks happy. Genuinely happy. Even though we're on our way to her mother's. So she must be really happy. Chocolate high. Or maybe something else. Ever since that night … that night that we were both so scared that we might lose the baby and then so relieved to see it's little heart beating so strongly on the sonogram, things have been different. In a good way. We've both been positively giddy since then. Well, I was pretty giddy right from the very beginning. And I know Abby was happy all along, but after our scare, her joy has been more obvious. She's acting more like … well, me. 

At first , I was the one who wanted to stop everyone I saw on the street and say, "Hey, I'm gonna be a daddy." I was the one wondering aloud what the baby would look like, which of our personality traits she … or he would inherit, what life would be like with a baby in our family. I was the one busily making plans for the future, while Abby seemed somewhat reticent discussing the baby and according plans in any detail. There were times when I worried that she wasn't as on board with the whole baby thing as she was claiming to be. Not that I was worried that she didn't want it; it was more like I was worried that she was still harboring fears about the whole thing and trying to hide her apprehension from me. 

But not now. Lately, Abby's been happily joining me in my musings about our future with our child. She's been reading all the pregnancy and child care and parenting books she can get her hands on. She's doing her best to follow all the 'rules' for having a safe and healthy pregnancy. She gets teary-eyed at diaper commercials and smiles at babies in the grocery store. She smiles. And laughs. A lot. When she's not in the grips of a 'mood.' 

And I can certainly understand this change in her. It was scary, terrifying really, thinking that something was wrong with baby, that the pregnancy was in jeopardy. To be so convinced that we were so close to disaster just made the relief that we felt that much more acute. I didn't want her to know how scared I was, I didn't want her to know how worried I was that I was going to have to deliver the bad news to her. I've never been so relieved in my life as I was when I examined her and found that everything was just the way it should be. And then … seeing the baby on the screen, watching it's little heartbeat … amazing. Even now, just remembering it makes a little lump form in my throat. And at the time, when I was watching Abby's face change as she stared at our baby on the screen … well, I knew then that things were changing for her. I think that's when it finally sank in. And I'm very glad that she seems so happy. She's that same content, at-peace-with-the-world Abby that I knew those two weeks in Guatemala. I'm glad she's back. Maybe Abby finally figured out her true calling in life. 

And whether it's because of her newfound joy or some perfectly reasonable scientific explanation, she certainly is glowing these days. And she's more beautiful than ever. Pregnancy looks good on her.

"What?" She asks me. Oh, I guess I've been stealing glances at her whenever I could. She must have noticed. 

"Nothing. Well … I was just thinking that you wear it well." 

"What? Chocolate?" She asks, licking her lips. 

"No. Pregnancy." 

Abby looks down at her belly, smoothes her shirt over her abdomen. "I'm not showing yet. Not really." 

"It shows in other ways."

"Like what?"

"Like … your smile. I've never seen you so happy."

"Well, I guess I've never really been this happy." 

"I'm glad it's you."

"Huh? Glad it's me what?"

"Having my baby. Becoming the mother of my child. Because this baby is gonna be awfully lucky to have a mother who is made so happy just by the mere fact of her existence."

"We're definitely going to have to find out the sex."

"What?"

"Yeah. Because if this child is a boy, you are going to give him quite the complex by calling him 'she' all the time."

"Sorry. _He's_ going to be lucky to have a mommy who is so happy just because _he_ exists." 

"That's better."

"You think it's a boy?"

"No."

"So you do think it's a girl." I say, triumphantly.

"No. I just have no idea."

"Well, Susan thinks it's a girl."

"And Susan is basing that on …"

I shrug. "Maybe we should start taking a poll. We'll see what Maggie and Eric think."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see what they think of this whole thing." Call me crazy, but I think I detect a note of sarcasm there.

"Your mom's gonna be thrilled." 

"I know. I just …"

"What?"

"I don't know. Hope she's not too … over the top. Even when she's on her meds she tends to be a little …"

"Enthusiastic?" I supply.

"I was thinking more like 'crazy' but yours sounds better." 

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Ab."

"Only one way to find out, huh?" She says, looking out the window. We've just arrived at Maggie's but I'm not sure if Abby's fully prepared. 

"You ready?" I ask.

"I guess." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, let's go." 

We collect our stuff from the car and head to Maggie's front door. Standing there waiting for Maggie to answer, Abby's biting her lip and worrying about what she's gonna find on the other side of the door. But when Maggie opens the door, she looks perfectly normal, her reading glasses perched on her nose, book in hand. And she's fully dressed. And she smells good. Well, really the whole place smells good. I have to say that I approve of the whole lasagna scheme. Maggie looks out at us for a minute, a look of complete surprise on her face. 

"Abby! John!" She gives us a big smile. "What are you doing here?" She sounds happy, but vaguely worried.

"Surprise!" Abby says, "We thought we'd come for a visit."

"Well, isn't this nice? Come in. Come in." We step inside and Maggie immediately pulls Abby into a hug. "Oh, Abby. It's so good to see you. Let me look at you." 

"Hi, Mom. It's good to see you, too." Okay, so far so good. They both actually seem happy to see each other. That's a good thing.

She steps back from Abby, and then reaches out to tuck stray wisps of Abby's hair behind her ears. "You look good." She pronounces. "You've got some color in your cheeks for once. I worry about you, you know. That job of yours is so stressful, and I know you don't eat right."

"Mom …"

"And you," Maggie says, turning toward me, "you look like you hardly eat at all." Well, she should try getting in a full meal with Abby in the house. She'll see. 

"Hi, Maggie." I say, not quite knowing how else to respond. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Mom?'" She gives me a hug then. And a kiss on the cheek as she moves away.

"Sorry … Mom." 

"That's better. Now put your stuff down. Come on in and sit down." Maggie ushers us into the living room and we all sit down. Abby and I next to each other on the couch, and Maggie in a chair facing us. "Oh, this is so great, having you two here. And you picked a good time to come. I have a lasagna in the oven. Your brother's coming over for dinner. The whole family will be together." More than she knows. 

"It smells terrific." I tell Maggie.

"Thanks. It's one of Abby's favorites. How lucky that Eric just happened to ask me to make it today."

"Well, actually … I asked Eric to do that. I really wanted some lasagna."

"You came all this way for lasagna?"

"No, we came to see you. But I though while I was here … And, I wanted to make sure you were gonna be home before we drove seven hours."

"So why did you come to visit? Not that you can't come and visit any time you want, but … you usually don't. Is there some special occasion?" There's something about the way she asks that makes me think she already knows what we're here to tell her. Well, suspects anyway. Abby and I turn to look at each other. Might as well tell her now. 

"Well," Abby says. "We wanted to give you something." She turns and looks at me. Oh, I guess she wants me to get it. I retrieve the wrapped box from one of our bags and hand it to Abby as I sit down again.

"Here." Abby says, handing it to her mother. Yes, we're big on ceremony and sentimental speeches in this family. 

Maggie looks at the box for a minute. "Well … it's not my birthday…" 

"Would you just open it?" Abby asks impatiently. 

So we watch as Maggie pulls the paper off the box, opens the lid and pushes the tissue paper aside. 

"Oh!" She exclaims, sucking in her breath as she sees the picture frame labeled with the words 'I Love Grandma.' And inside the frame there's an enlarged picture from the sonogram. So basically we've given her a fuzzy black and white picture of the unrecognizable object that is her grandchild. Still, judging by her reaction, I'm assuming that it was enough to get the message across. 

"Congratulations … Grandma." Abby says.

"Oh, Abby." Maggie says, getting up and moving over to us. She gives Abby a quick hug before turning to me. She lays her hand on my cheek and gives me a big smile before giving me a tight hug. "Thank you." She whispers in my ear while her arms are wrapped around me. And then she turns back to Abby. She sits down next to her and hugs her again, longer this time. "Oh, sweetie, this is so great. You're gonna have a baby." When they pull out of their embrace, there are tears in both their eyes. 

"We're gonna have a baby." Abby says. "You're gonna be a grandmother." 

"Oh. I'm gonna be a grandma. I can't believe my baby is going to have a baby."

"Sometimes I can't believe it either." Abby says. 

"But you're … okay with it, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I wanted it. We were trying to get pregnant. Although, no sooner did we start trying than I freaked out and decided it was a bad idea." Abby turns and looks at me. Takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. Maggie is holding Abby's other hand. It's a real Hallmark moment. "Luckily," Abby says, "I was already pregnant by then. I just didn't know it yet. But by the time I figured it out, I was fine. And now …" Abby's voice is getting a little shaky. 

"We're thrilled. And so excited. We couldn't … wouldn't want to imagine it any other way." 

"Oh, I'm so happy for you. For both of you. And for me too." Maggie pats Abby's belly. "That's my grandbaby in there. Hi in there, I'm your grandma." Maggie looks at Abby for a minute. "You've already got a little belly."

"Well, yeah." Abby says. "I'm already fourteen weeks." Maggie looks a little surprised at that, but she doesn't say anything. "Plus, I eat anything that's not nailed down and doesn't run away. I'm not sure if this is baby or ice cream." Abby says, rubbing her little pooch. 

"Ice cream? I remember that. When I was pregnant with you, I couldn't get enough. Ice cream, cake, cookie dough, anything sweet really."

I'm nodding as it sounds familiar. Well, not the cookie dough. Raw eggs being a no-no. "Abby likes the sweet stuff too. That and cheese. Yogurt. Cottage cheese. Milkshakes." 

"Must be a girl, then." 

"Ha!" I say.

"You think it's a girl?" Maggie asks me.

"He's _convinced_ it's a girl." 

"Well, according to the old wives' tale, with a girl you eat sweet things … and lots of dairy products. With a boy you'll crave more salty, savory things. I don't know if it's true. But that's how it was for me. With you it was cake. With your brother is was potato chips."

"Oh … cake. I wouldn't mind some cake." Abby says. Translated, that means that if doesn't get some cake pretty soon, we're all gonna be in big trouble.

"We'll have your brother bring one over." Maggie suggests. "Cake, huh? Guess I'm gonna have a little granddaughter."

"See?" I say to Abby.

"Well, I guess we'll find out in few weeks." 

"You really want to find out? You don't want to be surprised?" I ask her.

"Yeah, I want to find out. It's a baby, not a birthday gift. I want to know who's in there." 

I consider this for a minute. "Okay." I agree.

"How soon will you be able to find out?" Maggie asks. 

"We have a sonogram in a few weeks. If we can get a good look, we'll find out then." 

"It must be nice to know ahead of time." Maggie says. "I had to guess with you and your brother. You wore nothing but yellow clothes the first six months of your life. And you know, you had no hair. So every time I took you out, people would tell me what a cute little boy you were. Oh! I've got pictures around here somewhere. I'm gonna get them out." 

Maggie disappears and returns with a short stack of thin photo albums. "I never did keep those baby books for you kids. I wasn't very good at keeping up with things like that." Abby and I exchange looks. Then Abby looks at Maggie. And the two of them share a laugh. "Obviously. But I wish I had been. I did keep the pictures, though. They used to be in half a dozen shoe boxes, but then one day I decided to organize them. And this one," she says, pulling an album out of the stack, "is Abby's baby pictures."

"You still have these?" Abby asks. "After … everything?"

"Well, no matter what else I left behind, I always took these. Or came back for them. For a while I carried them around in a couple of those big brown envelopes. Well anyway, here they are. There aren't a lot of them, but …"

Maggie opens the book and there's baby Abby. In snapshots and studio portraits, grinning at the camera. A little bald-headed newborn Abby, then an older, chubbier version whose peach fuzz eventually gave way to wispy dark curls. This is the first time I've seen baby pictures of Abby. It just makes me that much happier that she's the one I decided to marry. If our kids look anything like her, they're gonna be damn cute. 

The three of us spend a pleasant afternoon looking through the pictures books with Abby and Maggie reminiscing about the good times they can remember. Which is an improvement from dwelling on the bad stuff. Not that I don't understand how the bad things can come sometimes take prominence; it's certainly happened to me often enough. But maybe Abby and her mom are finally starting to get past it. Things seem pretty good right now. We're all just enjoying each other's company and having a good time sitting around and chatting. Well, until Abby starts staring at her own hand like she's debating its nutritional value. 

"I'm hungry." Abby announces. But no need to call the networks, this really isn't news. Abby is always hungry.

"Well, of course you are, dear." Maggie says. "You're pregnant." She pats Abby's arm and gives her an understanding smile. "The lasagna should be done, and your brother will be here any minute."

"Oh." Abby says, sounding disappointed. "We forgot to call Eric." Maggie and I look at her. "You know … about the cake." And God help us if Abby doesn't get her cake. 

"Well, I can make one." Maggie offers.

"No, don't go to all that trouble." Abby says. 

"It's no trouble." Maggie says, waving her arm in a dismissive gesture that I've seen Abby do a thousand times. It makes me smile. Maybe someday I'll watch our child do the exact same thing. "Besides we've got something to celebrate, don't we? I can't believe it. I'm gonna be a grandma."

Maggie heads off to the kitchen, refusing our offers of help, so Abby and I are left alone on the couch. I pick up the album with Abby's baby pictures in it.

"Our kids are gonna be awfully cute. At least if they look anything like their mom." I say, showing Abby a picture that I especially like. Apparently on her first birthday, baby Abby is reaching one finger out toward the cake with a very familiar mischievous little smile on her face. She looked like trouble even then. 

"They'll be just as cute if they look like their daddy." She says, as she gets up.

"Where are you going?"

"Someone's tap dancing on my bladder again." I just look at her. I know she can't feel any movement yet. "I have to pee." She explains giving me a 'duh' look.

As soon as she disappears down the hall, the front door opens, and Eric walks in. We greet each other and then head into the kitchen so Eric can say hello to his mom. And stick his fingers in the cake batter. 

"Sis!" He calls to Abby as she walks in the room. He runs over and literally sweeps her up into a bear hug.

"Hi, Eric." Abby says cautiously. I know that she views any overly abundant show of emotion from her family as possibly problematic. She's probably evaluating the likelihood of this being evidence of manic behavior. 

"You look different." Eric says, holding Abby at arm's length. "It's your hair. Mm, no. Not the hair. Wait, I'll get it."

"I gained some weight." Abby says. 

"Women." Eric says, turning to give me an eye roll. "Always worried about gaining weight." 

"But I really did gain some weight. That happens when you're pregnant." 

Eric does a double take. "You're gonna have a baby?" 

"Yeah." Abby says with a little chuckle.

"That's great!" Eric sweeps her back into that hug, this time twirling her around. Maggie's looking on and smiling. And I'm every bit as happy. Eric abruptly stops and puts Abby back down. "Oops, sorry. Guess I shouldn't do that. Sorry, kid." He says in direction of Abby's belly. "You're not gonna throw up on me, are you?"

"No. I'm gonna eat the table cloth, though, if we don't have dinner soon." 

"Hurry up with dinner, Grandma." He calls to Maggie. And then he turns to me. Gives me a punch on the arm. And a wink. "If someone had to knock up my sister, I'm glad it was you."

"Especially since he is my husband." 

"Well, if someone had to marry my sister and then knock her up …"

"You two had better learn to watch your language now that there's gonna be a baby in the family." Maggie says. I see the look that passes between Abby and Eric.

"Yes, Mommy Dearest." Eric says, giving Maggie a salute. "Uncle Eric will be a good boy. Uncle Eric. I like that. So when are you gonna pop the kid out, Ab?"

"Well, I'm due at the beginning of February." 

"That's less than six months. Weird."

"What?"

"Six months from now you'll be a mom. And this guy's gonna be a dad?" Eric gives Abby a look, denoting the craziness of that idea.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" This guy asks, somewhat indignantly. 

"Well, no offense, but you and Abby are … well …"

"What?" Abby asks.

"Kinda weird." 

"Weird?" She asks with a laugh. "Oh no. I'm the normal one in this family."

"No, you're the one with the proper brain chemistry. Doesn't mean you're normal. You guys aren't gonna be all uptight with this kid are you?"

"What do you mean uptight? I'm not uptight." Abby protests. 

"Oh right. Abby, when I was a kid … hell, even now, you've got like the worst case of mother hen ever. All you ever did when I a kid was tell me not to do stuff because it was too dangerous." 

"Eric, you tried to climb the side of our building. You tied your sled to the bumper of Mr. Peterson's car. You slid down the banister head first. Someone had to stop you. You had no fear." 

"And you were no fun. Kids need to have fun."

"_Fun_. Kids need fun. Not danger."

"Danger is fun."

"You're never baby-sitting."

Watching this whole exchange reminds me of every argument my brother and I ever had growing up. I'm getting another flash to the future. A few years from now when we've got a couple kids arguing just for the fun of it. And considering how much Abby and I argue, and how incredibly stubborn we both are, I can only begin to imagine what the kids will be like. 

"Maybe we should just have one."

"What?" Abby says, stopping her arguing with Eric long enough to look at me.

"Did I say that out loud?" I ask.

"Dinner's ready." Maggie calls as she starts bringing the food out to the table. All arguments and discussions immediately end in favor of stuffing our faces. Okay, this could be a good thing to remember for the future. When in doubt, feed arguing kids. It's a pretty good philosophy with Abby these days, so why not carry it over to the kids? 

Dinner and then the rest of the evening passes pleasantly. We spend a good portion of the night playing a cutthroat game of Monopoly. It does worry me slightly that Abby managed to clean us all out even while simultaneously polishing off half of a cake. Still, I'm kinda of sad to see the evening come to an end. This family thing is pretty fun when no one is under-medicated, over-medicated, or angry at someone else. Abby seems to be enjoying herself as well. I'm glad to see her getting along with Maggie, and not worrying too much about Eric. I tell her as much as soon as we are settled in Maggie's guest room for the night. 

"So everything went pretty good, huh?" I ask. "Maggie's happy --"

"But not too happy." Abby clarifies. She snuggles a little closer to me in the bed, laying her head down on my shoulder.

"And you seemed pretty happy tonight yourself when you were kicking our butts at Monopoly."

"That was the cake that was making me so happy. It was good cake."

"Yeah, it was. It was nice of Maggie to make it for you. See? She's good. And Eric seems like he's doing well. I'm glad to see all of you getting along so well."

"Yeah, I hope it lasts. Now that I'm gonna be a mother myself, it seems like a good idea to try and … mend fences, I guess. For the baby's sake."

"It's good for all of us, you know." 

"I just really don't want the baby growing up in a family where everyone is always at each other's throats. I want there to be happy memories."

"There will be. You and Maggie found plenty of good stuff to talk about this afternoon when you were going through the pictures."

"Yeah, it wasn't _all_ bad. But the bad was _so_ bad that it kinda overshadowed the good."

"Well that's what you have to hold on to. The good stuff. And concentrate on the future. And making more good memories. With the baby." I move my hand over to rub her belly. 

"At least Maggie's happy about being a grandma." Abby says.

"Was that ever in doubt? Abby, she's been talking about grandchildren for as long as I can remember." 

"Yeah, I'd say she's been anxiously awaiting this day. Did you see the sewing machine?" Abby asks, gesturing to the machine in the corner.

"What?"

"She's got a drawer full of patterns for baby clothes."

"It's nice that she's excited. She'll be a good grandma. Just like you'll be a good mom." I lean down and kiss Abby's neck.

"John, stop that."

"Telling you what a good mom you're going to be?" I ask innocently.

"No … feeling me up." She says, pulling my hand out from under her shirt. 

"Why? When did you decide you didn't like it?" 

My new favorite play things are under her shirt. And ever since the soreness went away, she's been more than happy for me to spend hours each day enjoying them. Seems they're rather sensitive these days. Sensitive in a good way. Sensitive enough that I swear sometimes that all I have to do is look at them for Abby to turn into quivering, moaning pool of jell-o. But here she is, pushing me away and turning over onto her side. She snuggles up against me with her back to my chest, but holds my hand firmly on her stomach. 

"I didn't say I didn't like it. But I don't want to start anything."

"Why not?"

"John … we're at my _mother's_." 

"So what?"

"She's in the next room."

"Abby, I think your mother knows we have sex." I say, patting her growing little bump.

"That doesn't mean she wants to hear it." 

"We could be quiet."

She starts laughing. "Yeah, right. Sure. When was the last time we were quiet?"

"We're always quiet at work." 

"You say that like it happens every day."

"Well, not _every_ day." I lean over and kiss her cheek. Then I kiss down her face to her neck. 

"John …" It sounds like a protest, but she tilts her head back toward me, giving me greater access to her neck. I slip my hand back under her shirt. She doesn't protest that. So I brush the backs of my fingertips over her ribs lightly before giving her breast the same treatment. By the time my fingers sweep over her nipple, she's that quivering mass of jell-o, moaning quietly. She turns over on to her back, and I bend my head down to capture her lips in a kiss that quickly grows passionate. When we break the kiss, I immediately move my lips back to her neck.

"I can't believe we're gonna do this here." She says. But she's tugging at my shirt, trying to pull it up and over my head. I move away from her long enough to let her. "I don't think you should have sex in your parent's house."

"What do you think teenagers do?" I ask as I pull off her shirt and then return to my former position, burying my head in her neck. 

"Do it in cars, the way they are supposed to? Or … sheds, if you're Susan." I move my trail of kisses down her chest while my hands slip under the waist band of her pajama bottoms. 

"You wanna go out to the car?" I ask in between kisses. 

"No. But there's just something about … well, it's my little brother's bed." 

"It's not his bed anymore Abby. Besides, I think you promised to make it up to me … you know, this afternoon in the car?" 

"You were the one who said no." She giggles as my hands roam back up her sides after having gotten those pesky pants out of the way. 

"I told you, it was a safety hazard. You drive me to distraction enough as it is."

"No pun intended?"

"What?" 

"I guess not. Never mind." She says, pushing my head back down toward her chest. Well, who am I to argue. Never argue with your pregnant wife, right? So if that's where she wants my head, I won't fight it.

I carefully trail my tongue over the flesh between her swollen breasts. Her back arches slightly and she moans quietly. Her hands roam over my back and then into my pajama pants. My hands join her own and we manage to take them off. I continue my licking and kissing down to her belly button and then a little lower to the small bulge where our baby is growing. 

"Close your eyes, little one." Abby giggles. Just like she does every time. 

"Come back here." She instructs, urging me to join her on the pillow. I move back up the along my previous route, kissing her up her belly and then in between her breasts. And then I move to the swell of flesh itself. When I finally capture one of her stiff peaks in my mouth, she gasps. Loudly. 

"Shh." I remind her. She just moans in response as I turn my attention to the other breast. If I do this long enough, it will push Abby right over the edge. It certainly has plenty of times so far during this pregnancy. As it is, she's holding my head tight against her engorged flesh. She whimpers when I finally manage to pull my head away, moving up so that I can kiss her lips. 

"Did you want to stop?" I ask her playfully when we separate. In response she wraps her arms around me and pulls me to her. I gently lower my body over hers. Her legs wrap around mine. I slip inside of her easily, with a groan. 

"Shh." Her turn to remind me. 

Her hands on either side of my face, she pulls me close for another kiss as I pump in and out of her gently.

"Uhn. That's nice." She purrs. I increase the strength of my movements and she moans. Loudly. And she tells _me _I'm loud?

"Abby … shh. You don't want Maggie coming in here to see what's wrong with you." I tell her, pulling away from her slightly. 

She just wraps her arm around to the back of my head and pulls me close for a kiss while I move gently inside of her. Slow and steady wins the race tonight. Within moments we've settled into a good rhythm. But as our need increases, so does the pace. And the when the bedsprings start to sing, we both freeze. And when we catch each other's eye, we start laughing. Quietly, of course. 

And then I roll us over, putting me under Abby where I can look up and worship her beautiful, curvy body. She pushes herself up and sits straddling me, moving slowly and seductively. She runs her hand over her own voluptuous body and through her silky hair. She still drives me wild. Now more than ever. She's practically purring, I can hear the constant string of sighs escaping from her throat. I move with her, gently, slowly. As the sensations increase, I pull her to me, and when the moment arrives, I struggle not to scream out her name. Instead I capture her lips with my own, our cries of pleasure muffled while the two of us ride along together as the waves of pleasure wash over us. 

"Mmm," she makes a contented little noise as she snuggles against my chest. "Thanks for talking me into that."

"My pleasure." 

"The feeling is mutual." 

"Good to know." I tell her. 

She gives me quick kiss on the lips and then rolls away from me. She starts slipping back into her pajamas, tossing mine to me. Yeah, I wouldn't want Maggie opening the door in the morning to ask us how we like our eggs and finding us both naked. That would probably defeat the purpose of the whole 'being quiet' thing. I guess I better get used to it, once we have kids running around the house, we can't exactly be lying around naked then either. 

Once we are dressed once again, Abby and I resume our former positions, snuggled up together under the covers. My hand finds it way back to her belly, as it does most nights.

"See, Flubber? I told you meeting the family wouldn't be so bad. Of course, wait until you meet the Carter side of the family. "

"Wait until they find out you call their grandchild 'Flubber.' In my family, that's one of the nicer names anyone could be called … but I don't think Flubber Carter has the kind blue blood ring to it that your parents might hope for." She says, ending with a big yawn. I laugh and kiss the back of her head.

"Good night, Abby." I pat the belly. "Good night, Baby. 

"Good night, John." She says in a sleepy voice.

And I close my eyes, feeling relaxed and content. And glad that our first visit to Grandma's has been such a success. 


	14. Mall Madness

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea _(CarbyLove@aol.com__)_

Rating: R

Author's Note: Thanks for the line by line editing COURTNEY. I'm still not sure what your problem with the "ohs" was … but you'll see they've been removed as per your request. Thanks to KELLY and LISA for the feedback. Thanks to LANIE for all the reviews. Thank to ALL MY LOYAL READERS for the reviews. Please don't stop now. Enjoy the following twenty-three pages of ridiculous nonsense and random smut. And c'mon … if I can write 9700 words, you can write a little review, right? 

*~*~*~*

A Dream Life

Chapter 14: Mall Madness 

"Good morning," Maggie says cheerfully as I stumble in to the kitchen.

"Morning," I say with a yawn. 

"Did you … uh … sleep okay?" She asks me. There's something about the way she says it that makes me think she might have her suspicions about John and I, and our … nocturnal activities. 

"Um … yeah, just fine." I say carefully. 

"Good." She walks over to the table, hands me a glass of orange juice, and sits down. She gives me a sly smile and then says, "You're sure? The bed wasn't too … hard or soft … or too small?"

"No, we did just fine." I tell her with a rueful smile of my own. "As I'm guessing you heard." 

"Well … I heard. But don't worry, I didn't listen. I mean, I was in bed when I heard some … commotion. And you sounded like maybe you … weren't feeling well. I was afraid something was wrong, so I got up to check on you. But just as I was about to knock on your door I heard …"

"What?" I ask, alarmed at the possibilities.

"I heard you giggling. So I came out here and had a cup of tea. Since … you know, I figured you were okay." 

"I was more than okay," I mutter under my breath.

"That's good, sweetie." She says with a knowing smile. "I'm glad you two are staying close." 

"Yeah we 'stay close' a lot these days." 

"I remember that. All those hormones."

"Yeah. This pregnancy has been, like, the biggest aphrodisiac ever."

"Really?" 

"Yeah. We've been real close for most of the pregnancy. All but the first couple of weeks."

"Morning sickness?"

"Nope, I didn't have morning sickness. We just were having a rough time for a while there. After my freak out. But once we found out we were pregnant … and it's been like that ever since. And, of course, then there was when we were trying to get pregnant and we had to …" I trail off when I suddenly remember that I'm talking to my mom, not Susan. Maybe she'd rather not know this. But she's just grinning at me. 

"Were you trying for long?" She asks, subtly changing the subject. 

"Oh, yeah," I say sarcastically. "A whole day. Well, actually … more like twelve hours." 

"Wow. Fertile." She remarks. 

"Yeah, like bunnies. Which is kinda scary. You know, how easily it happened. But I guess it's a good thing … since it _did _happen so fast, I was already pregnant by the time I freaked out."

"You keep mentioning that 'freak out.' Yesterday, too. What happened?" 

"I don't know. I _thought_ I'd gotten over my fears. But then we started trying, and I suddenly felt like I wasn't ready at all."

"You didn't … you weren't … you know, doing it for John, were you? I mean, it was something you wanted, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was _my _idea. He never pressured me about it. I mean, I knew he was open to it whenever I was ready. And I thought I was. Ready, that is. I think I kinda buried all thoughts of what could go wrong. But then … when it wasn't just theory anymore, it was a little overwhelming. I like to think I'm getting better about the whole 'negative thinking' thing, but this is just too important. I didn't want to mess it up."

"You won't, Abby. You'll do just fine. God knows, you've had plenty of practice. All those years of taking care me, taking care of your brother … I can't imagine anything motherhood could throw at you that you couldn't handle."

"Really? I can. I couldn't handle it if the baby … gets sick."

"You mean gets my bad genes."

"No. Well, maybe. I don't think I could go through it again." 

"You won't have to. Abby, you're not bipolar, so the chances of your kids being sick …"

"Less than ten percent. Maybe less than five."

"And those are pretty good odds."

"But it could still happen." 

"And if it does, you'll still love her. Just like we still love Eric. Abby, I hate it that I gave your brother my disease. But even if I'd known that, he would grow up … to be like me … it wouldn't have changed a thing. Believe me, you'll feel the same way. And you won't have to go through it alone. John loves you. He loves this baby. He won't run away. Your father … he was running from me, not you kids. It was … _I _was too much for him." 

"That's what I'm afraid of. I'm not … the easiest person to be married to. We have our problems, separately and together. What if it all gets to be too much one day? What if I push him away? What if we mess up this poor, defenseless baby?" 

"Oh, Abby. Everybody worries about things like that. Except for the ones that don't care. So your worrying just goes show what a concerned mother you are. And all expectant mothers worry about things going wrong, about doing things wrong. It's perfectly normal. There's nothing wrong with being a little scared. You just can't let it get the best of you."

"Ugh. Eric's right. I'm gonna be a paranoid, uptight mother and make the kid totally neurotic." 

"No, you won't. Abby, you're gonna be a good mother. I'm just sorry that I wasn't a better role model for you. A better mother for you. But you've done so well in spite of that. And your child will be lucky. Not only is she going to inherit your strength and intelligence, she's gonna have you there with her. Teaching her, guiding her, just being there. You can do that, you're gonna do that. And so she's gonna be off to a great start. Already you're giving her more than you ever had. Which is every parent's dream. To see to it that our kids have it better than we did. That their lives are better, happier, richer than ours were. And if you do that for her, Abby, you'll have done a lot. More than you realize."   


She reaches over and takes my hand, giving me a smile. "But I guess you must have realized all that, since my grandchild is already on the way." With her other hand, she pats my belly. 

"Well, not exactly … I just got lucky because it had already happened when I had my meltdown." 

"Oh right. The first time. Well, that was lucky." 

"Yeah. I feel really lucky these days. We had a scare a couple of weeks ago." She looks startled, her face clearly showing her concern. "It's fine. Turned out to be nothing serious. But for a little while, I thought might be losing the baby. And I've never been so scared in my life. I realized then just how desperately I want this. And you're right, I'm gonna love this baby so much … it doesn't matter. Any kind of pain that I have to go through … it's worth it. But I'm not really afraid for myself anymore; it's the baby that I worry about."

"Welcome to motherhood." 

"Yeah. I know it'll be worth it. I just hope this child feels the same way. I know this baby's a … gift. I just hope she … or he will feel the same."

"Well, how often have you wished that you'd never been born?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" She raises her eyebrows, but I think she knows I'm not serious. Not really. Sort of serious. "There have been times in my life … But lately? Never. So just so long as the baby is okay … healthy … and grows up happy … I'm not asking for too much, am I?" 

"No, not at all. I'm sure the baby will be fine. She'll arrive safe and sound and perfectly healthy and grow up to be perfectly happy."

"I just hope it was the right decision … wanting a baby." 

"Well, obviously it was. After all, it happened so quickly, it must have been meant to be." 

"What was meant to be?" John asks, appearing in the kitchen, his hair still disheveled from sleep.

"The baby." I say, as he comes over and gives me my good-morning kiss before sitting down in the chair next to me.

"Oh, well, naturally," he says with a sleepy smile. He's cute in morning, half-asleep and all rumpled.

"So," Maggie says as she pats my hand and stands up, "What do you kids want for breakfast?"

"Cake!" 

"Abby." John gives me a stern look. I think he's practicing for fatherhood.

"What? I want some cake. What's wrong with that?" 

"Nothing. But how about if you have something healthy first. Baby can't live by cake alone, you know. Have some eggs. Or some oatmeal. Fruit."

"Cake." 

"Real food.

"Cake."

"I'm making pancakes. Blueberry pancakes," Maggie says, probably hoping to end the debate. "We'll have cake later." 

Carter turns to me and sticks out his tongue. Lovely. 

"Fine. Pancakes are good. I want lots and lots of syrup."

"Abby, this sweet tooth is out of control. That child is going to come out on a huge sugar high."

"It's not my fault. I can't control the cravings. Talk to your child."

"Okay." He leans over, putting his hands on my belly. "Hey, Baby. Good morning. Mommy says it's all your fault that her teeth are going to rot out of her mouth."

"I really don't think it's that serious," I say, looking down at the top of his head while he whispers to the baby. "I haven't given up brushing my teeth, you know."

"I know," he says, sitting up and leaning forward to kiss me. I wrap my arms around his neck and return the kiss, getting lost in it.

"Don't mind me," Maggie calls, "I'm just making the pancakes." Oh yeah, we're in my mom's kitchen. So maybe we should get it under control. I push him away and move into the kitchen to help my mom. We manage to make the pancakes without burning them or setting anything on fire. All in all, a success. And any breakfast that involves a cup of syrup being poured over it works well for me.

"So," Maggie asks, as she starts to clear the breakfast dishes. "What do you want to do today?"

"The mall," I say without hesitation. Hey, when you're in Minneapolis, you can't miss out on a chance to visit the Mall of America.

"Ugh," Carter says, apparently not sharing my assessment. 

"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun." 

"Fun?"

"Yeah."

"Do you actually need something at the mall or do you just want to … hang out?"

"What? Am I thirteen? I actually need something."

"Like what?"

"Well, now that you ask … bras. I need new bras."

"Bras? You're going … bra shopping?" Suddenly, he seems more interested. 

"Well, I know I just got some new ones, but these things just keep growing. And I was going to have you give me your opinion … but I'm sure you'd be bored. So you can just stay here, if you want. I'm sure there's some sporting event on TV." 

"No, I could go. I mean … if you need an opinion." 

"That's okay. I'm sure my mom will go with me and help, right Mom?"

"Sure, sweetie. I'll bet we can find you some nice maternity bras."

"I'll go," John says.

"No, you don't want to go shopping … you can just stay here." I turn toward my mom in the kitchen. "I'm glad you mentioned those maternity bras … lots of good support. It's very important to John that I keep them well supported. And since he didn't think my tank tops were doing the job … definitely maternity bras are the way to go." 

"They're adjustable," Maggie offers. "Or maybe they just stretch. Who knows, these days." 

"Practical," I say.

"Not especially sexy," Maggie offers, "But who really needs black lace at a time like this anyway?"

"Yeah, why bother with that now while my boobs just keep growing … and are getting bigger and bigger … better to just get something serviceable." 

"Abby? I wanna go."

"Well …"

"Please, can I go? I'll buy you whatever you want. We'll get you some new clothes …"

"Lunch?" 

"What?"

"Will you buy me lunch?"

"Of course." 

"Then you can go." 

An hour later, the three of us are just about to head out the door, Maggie having decided that she wouldn't mind a trip to the mall. Just as she opens the front door, Eric appears. 

"Hey, where's everybody going?" He asks.

"Bra shopping," I tell him.

"Cool." 

"You wanna come along?" I ask. 

"Sure." 

Carter's furrowing his brow and giving me a look. 

"What?" I ask as we are heading to the car.

"He's your brother." 

"Yeah?" 

"And you invited him to come bra shopping with us?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry … were you not aware that there's more than just Victoria's Secret at the mall? He's not coming in the dressing room with me." 

"Of course not. That's my job." 

"We'll see about that."

After a short ride to the mall, a long argument about where to park, and that inevitable hunt for a good space, we finally make it into the massive mall. 

"Wow," Carter says as we walk in, "This place is huge."

"No shit," Eric says … "There's an amusement park in the middle of the place."

"Cool, huh?" I say.

"Don't even think about it," John says to me.

"Think about what? Taking the baby on its first roller coaster ride?"

"It's just a little roller coaster, John. Like, for kids," my brother says. 

"Yeah, it'll be fun. The baby says it wants to ride the roller coaster," I know it's mean to tease him, but he's so cute when he gets all flustered and overprotective. 

"No, no, no! You're not taking my baby on any roller coaster."

"How about the bumper cars?" Carter looks stricken at my suggestion. 

"There are bumper cars?!" Eric seems very excited. 

"Bumper cars?!," Carter repeats, "Abby, you can't be serious."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "I'm not." 

"Good," Carter says, looking relieved.

"How about the merry-go-round?" I ask.

"No! No rides of any kind!" He says. 

Putting my hands on his shoulders, and leaning up on tiptoe, I whisper into his ear, "I can think of one thing that you wouldn't mind me _riding_." I give his ass a little pinch for good measure.

"Abby!" 

Maggie and Eric, a few feet ahead of us, stop and turn around at his outburst, both of them giving us a quizzical look.

Carter's turned red, but I find the whole thing funny. "You're cute when you blush." I tell him, kissing his cheek. "Hey, look," I say, pointing at a store across the way, "It's one of those make-your-own-teddy-bear places. Let's go." I grab his hand and pull him across the aisle. 

"Teddy bears?" John asks, still a step behind my thoughts, I guess.

"Yeah. C'mon. We can make something for the baby." 

"Oh, okay." He smiles somewhat giddily at the prospect. Mom and Eric turn to follow John and me. And so the four of us descend upon the unsuspecting teddy bear store en masse. 

"Wow, look at all these teddy bear bodies," Eric says, reaching into a bin and extracting a teddy bear 'skin' in need of stuffing. "It looks like a bunch of dead teddy bears. Like there was a teddy bear war. Or maybe like a Mack truck flattened out Teddy Bear Village."

"What?" I ask.

"Yeah, look at them, Abby. They're all flat … like road kill. Like they've been run over by a semi. Splat! There goes another one." I just shake my head at him, laughing in spite of myself. Even when he's 'normal,' he's not _normal_. "Here," he says, selecting a new flat bear from one of the many bins, "I like this one … let's use this one for Squirt's road kill bear." 

"Please don't call my baby Squirt." 

"Yeah," Carter offers, "We call it Flubber." 

"_You _call it Flubber."

"Flubber?" Maggie asks.

"Don't ask," I tell her. 

"C'mon," Carter says to me, "Let's pick out a bear for _Flubber. _Hey, how about that one?"

"What one?" I ask, looking in the direction that he's pointing. 

"That one hanging on the wall."

"John. That bear must be as tall as I am." 

"Yeah, so?"

"I don't even think you can make one that big. I think it's just a decoration."

"I'll bet you can. I'm gonna ask."

"Wait. What on earth would we do with a five-foot-tall bear?"

"We can put it in the nursery."

"We don't have a nursery."

"Well, we will soon. And we can put the bear in it."

"I think it would scare the baby. It's like … a thousand times bigger than a newborn. Besides, how would we get it home? I'd have to ride in the back seat."

"But Abby … it's so cute! It could sit in the corner of the baby's room --"

"That we don't have." 

"That we will have. Anyway, it could sit in the corner with all the other stuffed animals. And you know, watch over the baby."

"No."

"Why?"

"It's not necessary. C'mon, let's go find a regular-sized teddy bear." 

"Of course it's not _necessary_, it's just fun." 

"No"

"Fine," he says with a pout. 

"You know, I think I hope the baby _is_ a girl. Apparently, I already have a little boy." 

"Haha. Okay, let's go find a _little _teddy bear." 

"Oh look, they have lots of animals," I say, looking around. "Oh, this baby tiger is so cute," I say, playfully holding up the un-stuffed animal to Carter before slipping my arm around his neck. "Don't you think so, _Tiger_?" I ask him in low voice as I kiss his neck. 

"Abby, cut it out." He removes my arms from around his neck, placing them back at my sides. Taking the tiger body out of my hands, he puts it back in its bin and says, "I think we should stick with a teddy bear. Definitely a teddy bear." He gives me a strange look as he crosses the room toward a wall full of bears waiting to be stuffed. 

"Oh, now isn't this cute?" Maggie says, pointing out the sign that details the steps for making a 'new friend.' "After you stuff and stitch your bear, you have to give it a bath and then you can dress it. This place is just too much fun." Good thing we're all so easily amused. 

"So which bear?" Carter asks. "How about this one?" 

"That's white." I tell him. 

"So?"

"It for the baby. Have you ever seen a baby? They leak. A lot. Not white. How about this one? Dark brown, it won't show anything." 

"I like it; it's the same color as your hair."

"Nah," Eric says, "That one looks kinda mean. How about this one?" He has the unstuffed bear over his hand like a puppet and is making it dance. 

"Eric …" I say, rolling my eyes at him, but laughing at his antics, too. 

"What? He's cute. And soft. Not too light, not too dark. Not too big, not too small. He's just right." 

"Thanks, Goldilocks," I tell him, taking the bear. "You're right, though, this one is just right."

Between the four of us, we manage to get the bear stuffed. Quite a feet considering all we had to do was turn a handle. And then Carter demonstrates his suturing skills by stitching up the bear. Unfortunately, then we're supposed to dress the thing. I'm all for tying a bow around it and calling it done, but I get outvoted. 

"Look, Abby. Look at this." John holds up a very cute, very pink, very frilly ballet outfit. 

"How about this?" I counter, holding up an adorable baseball uniform. 

"You really think it's a boy?" He asks.

"Girls can play baseball. You are talking to a former Little League All-Star, you know." 

He looks at the pink tutu and ballet slippers in his hand. "Well, boys can … be … ballerinas," he says with reluctance.

"Yeah, if they wanna get beat up on the playground," Eric chimes in.

"And I think 'ballet dancer' is the proper term, dear," Maggie adds. 

"It's not ballerino?" Eric asks. 

"How many _ballerinos_ do you know?" I ask him.

"None. But I don't swing that way. Come to think of it, I don't know any ballerinas either. Which is kinda too bad." 

"Never mind," I say, turning back to Carter and taking the ballerina costume out of his hand. "How about we pick something neutral?" I suggest. 

"Oh, look at these cute little baby bear clothes." Maggie says. 

"Yeah! Let's make a baby bear." Carter sounds way too excited about this whole thing. 

"It's _just_ a teddy bear." I'm only a little bit exasperated. But honestly, we probably won't spend this much time picking out clothing for _me._

"I know. We could make a whole bear family. Daddy Bear, Mommy Bear, Baby Bear."

"No. No. One bear. One. That's enough." 

"Geez, Sis, lighten up. I told you … uptight." 

"I'm not uptight." So my jaw's clenched, so what?

"Do you like this one?" Carter holds up a little outfit made to look like a baby's sleeper.

"It's pink." 

"Well, there's no yellow so it's either pink or blue … and since I'm pretty sure it's a girl, and you claim to have no gut instinct, let's just go with pink."

"No, let's go with blue. Boys and pink is kinda weird, but girls and blue is fine." 

"Pink. It's prettier."

"Blue. It's more neutral." I can't believe we're fighting over how to dress our bear.

"Pink."

"Blue."

"Stop!" Maggie walks in between us, stopping this argument before it can progress. "How about this one? It's pink _and _blue. See? Stripes." 

"Like a prison jumpsuit. Cool." 

"Thank you, Eric," Mom says. 

"No, these stripes are vertical, aren't prison stripes horizontal?" I ask, for no apparent reason. 

"I think the stripes are vertical, too," Carter says. 

"No, the _bars_ are vertical, the stripes are horizontal." 

"There are no stripes," Maggie says. "They wear orange jumpsuits. Or denim." I raise my eyebrows at her, wondering when she became so well versed in prison fashion. "Too much Court TV." 

"Because we all haven't spent enough time in court ourselves," Eric throws out. 

"Oh my God. Can we just finish this and get out of here?" I ask. Now, I know this was my idea. And I'm having fun. Really. But I'm also getting hungry. Which means I'm getting cranky. And all this time just to make a child's toy … it shouldn't be this complicated.

"We have to dress the bear," John says.

"Fine." I take the bear out of his hand and the sleeper … or prison jumpsuit … out of Maggie's hands and proceed to shove that bear into it. 

"Wow, Abby. You've really got the touch," Carter says, playfully. 

"You're not gonna let her dress the baby, are you?" Eric asks.

"What?" I demand. 

"Well …" Mom starts. 

"What did that poor bear ever do to you Abby?" John asks. 

So I've got the head jammed under my arm, while I yank one the arms through the pajamas. It's like they think that's a bad thing or something. "It's just a toy!" 

"Nice way to treat your kid's toy," Eric says. 

"Didn't you read the sign, Abby? This is a new friend made with love. And it's for our baby. You could be a little more gentle, don't you think?"

"Here," I say, shoving the finally-dressed bear against Carter's chest, "Go pay for your _new friend_."

Of course, when he gets back he's all excited because they've packaged our new friend in a cardboard box that looks like a Moses basket. 

"Look, Abby, it's Baby's first teddy bear." He holds the box towards my belly. "What do you think, Flubber, do you like it? What's that? Your bear needs a name? What do you want to name the bear, Mommy?" 

"I dunno … Bear? And don't call me Mommy." 

"We can't just call it Bear," he protests, as we're walking through the mall once again. "That's silly."

"And Flubber isn't?"

"Hey, I know … we can call the bear Flubber, too." 

"We're not having this conversation," I tell him.

"We're not?" 

"No! It's ridiculous and … wait, where are Maggie and Eric?" 

"I told them we were going bra shopping next, so they're gonna meet us in a little while." He takes my hand and leads me into a store full of underwear. 

Of course, I'm here on a practical mission. I just want to get some new bras. Ones that I can actually squeeze my ever-growing boobs into. Naturally, John has other ideas. He's in a store full of women's lingerie, and he's like a kid in a candy store. Actually, he gets the same look on his face when he's in a candy store. Or a toy store. Or a store full of do-it-yourself teddy bears. But in here, everything he picks up is black and lacy and silky and impractical. 

"What am I supposed to do with that?" I ask, looking at the teddy he is holding out at me.

"Uh … wear it?" 

"I don't think little _Flubber_ will fit," I say patting the bulge with both hands. 

"Well, Flubber's not gonna be in there forever. And I think this will still fit now. We'll just have to get something bigger for later. Maybe something two-piece. I wonder if they have a maternity section?"

And he's off, leaving me to search through the less-exciting bras. I find some that will do nicely for everyday and even a couple less-practical black lace numbers as a concession to Carter's desires. I look around for him so that I can tell him I'm heading to the dressing room. I finally spot him admiring a display of garter belts. 

"You can forget about that," I tell him. And then, spying an item next to the garters, I say, "Crotchless underpants? I didn't know that they sold that kind of thing in here."

"Hey!"

"Don't get any ideas about that one either. Personally, I don't get it. If it's crotchless, why bother to wear it? You might as well just not wear any underwear at all." 

"Well …"

"I'm going to the dressing room," I interrupt, holding up my collection of bras. 

"Okay," he says. It's not until I turn the corner of the hallway leading to the dressing rooms, that I realize he's following me.

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm gonna give you my opinion. That's what you wanted, right? And I can't very well tell you which ones I like if I don't get to see you model them." 

"John, I don't think --"

"Relax, Abby. No one's here. The store is dead. We've got the place to ourselves."

"Well …"

"What's the worst that could happen? Besides these rooms are all …fully enclosed. No one will know that I'm here."

"Okay, fine. Come on," I grab his arm and drag him into a dressing room at the end of the hall. 

He takes a seat on a little bench, and prepares to enjoy the show. He insists that I try on the negligees that he's brought into the dressing with us. I have to say that putting them on over my own underwear kind of ruins the effect, but at least I know that they fit. Guess I'm getting some new, perfectly impractical, totally disrespectable, completely sexy underwear. Well … yay! 

When it comes time to try on the bras, his eyes never leave me. He watches me, watches my reflection. He seems to approve of the black lace bras. Quite a lot, in fact. I'm standing in front of the mirror, modeling one of them and studying my rounded figure. I watch him watching me as my hand trails over my little belly. When I'm dressed, it's still not obvious what's going on. A baggy shirt is all it takes to conceal the whole thing. But standing here in my underwear, my poochy belly seems quite pronounced. Still, I can't help but smile at the sight. 

"You're gorgeous, you know." I roll my eyes at him in the mirror. He gets up and moves to stand behind me, wrapping his arms loosely around me. "You really are." He dips his head forward, and I instinctively tilt mine back so that our lips can meet in a sweet kiss. After a moment, he turns me around in his embrace, so he can really kiss me like he means it. And apparently, he means it. 

"I like this bra," he says in a low, and if I'm not mistaken, seductive voice. He trails one finger along the lace edging of the cup. His touch is so light, I can barely feel it. And that makes it all the more sensuous. I find myself closing my eyes. Soon I find his lips where his fingers were a moment ago, kissing along the swell of flesh not concealed by the lacy undergarment. He reaches around behind me, unhooking the bra, then slowly sliding the straps down my arms. He removes it and drops it on the pile with the others. He backs me up against the wall as his head dips down. And then his mouth is on one of my now-naked breasts. I sigh as he nibbles at the flesh and suck in a breath when he captures a hard nipple. I swallow hard, trying not to make any noise as he sucks at my flesh. Mmm … it does feel good. 

"John?" He looks up at me, possibly thinking that he's in trouble, judging by the uncertain look on his face. "Other side? It's feeling sort of neglected," I tell him. He grins up at me, replacing his mouth with his hand on the current side, and then moving to nuzzle and lick at the formerly neglected side. If he keeps this up much longer, I'm going to be very, very happy. His talented tongue on my extremely sensitive boobs is a recipe for a very happy Abby. I let my head fall back against the wall, forgetting almost completely that I'm in a public dressing room. This feels way too good to worry about details like that. 

Especially now that he's getting down on his knees and kissing at my belly button. His hands wrap around my waist, and he pulls me towards him, then turns me around and backs me up until I'm at the bench he was occupying earlier. I sit down and bring us face to face. He smiles at me and leans in to kiss me. A lingering kiss on my lips, then down my neck, over my shoulder, back across one lucky breast, down my stomach … and then he dips even lower. I swear, I can't help it … my legs just fall open all on their own. _I_ didn't mean for that to happen. And now he's kissing my most sensitive flesh through my panties. I swallow hard. Lick my lips. Let my head fall back once again. His fingers slip inside the waistband of my underpants and the next thing I know, they are down around my ankles. And I'm naked in a public space. There should be some sort of law against this. Oh yeah, there is. 

My hand tangles in his hair as he takes his mouth to me. I have to bite on my lip to keep from screaming. Oh God, he's just way too good at this. His tongue is doing things to me that feel too good to be natural. My hips thrust forward on the bench, pushing toward him, giving him greater access, which he immediately takes advantage of. Something about the situation … the naughtiness of it all … has me even more hot and bothered than usual. He's driving me wild, and I'm going completely out of my head.

"Oh, John," I whisper as he increases he tempo. He's got a good little rhythm going here and it's not going to take much more at all. Oh, yeah … that's nice. That's really nice. Oh … I sigh in pleasure. This is much too good to be true. 

"Abby?" Shit! We freeze. Dammit, I knew it was too good to be true. I push Carter away from me, scramble to pull up my panties, and then start frantically searching for my other clothes. 

"Abby? Are you in here?" I hear Maggie calling. Of course, I'm not really in a position to answer her just yet. I need a minute here. Dammit! Goddamn it! Okay, calm down now … deal with the sexual frustration later. 

"Is she in here?" I hear Eric ask.

"I don't know. This is where John to said to meet them, but I don't see either of them anywhere."

"Then she must be in here. Maybe sound doesn't travel well in here. Abby?" He bellows. "I don't really want to have to see you in your underwear, so get dressed … I'm coming in."

"Oh, Eric, for God's sake," Maggie says. By now, I'm doing a frantic pantomime to Carter. I've found my purse and pulled out wet wipe left over from last week's barbeque restaurant adventure. He looks perplexed as to why I'm handing it to him, so I do a little charade to help him out. He seems to finally get it and cleans himself up. Meanwhile, I'm still scrambling around to sort my clothes from the new underwear … I guess I'll be buying it all since this is no time to stop and sort. 

"Abby?" My mother yells at the top of her lungs.

"Mom?" I manage to squeak out. "I'm here. Just … give me a minute."

"Abby? You're here? What are you doing?" 

"I … uh … I'm …getting dressed." True enough. 

"Oh. Okay. Why didn't you say so?"

"Uh …"

"Never mind. Do you know where John went?" I give Carter a wide-eyed look. I can't very well claim he's not in here … what are we gonna do? Search the mall for an hour while he hides out in the dressing room and later pretends to have been somewhere else? He gives me a shrug. 

"Yeah. He's in here." 

"Oh." 

"In there, huh Ab? In _where_ exactly?"

"Eric!" Mom admonishes him. 

"In the dressing room." Yeah, that's it … just play it like that. "He was just … helping me out with something." 

"Yeah, I'll bet." Eric calls. 

I finally get my clothes back on and all the underwear gathered up and head out the door. I won't look in the mirror. I don't need to know how red my cheeks are. 

"Kinky." Eric comments as I walk past him. 

"Abby …" Mom's saying.

"She just needed my help," Carter explains. "I was giving her my opinion." 

"Oh, I'll bet you were giving her something … I doubt it was your opinion."

"Eric, shut up!" I hiss. 

"I had no idea my sister was such a superfreak. Or that those dressing rooms were so big."

"Dammit, Eric! Stop it!" 

"Whoa, calm down. I was just kidding around. No need to freak out." 

I head straight to the register, dumping my purchases on the counter. I'm no longer happy Abby from the dressing room. Now I'm slightly embarrassed, extremely frustrated Abby. I definitely need ice cream. Or a big lunch. Both. Among other things. But the ice cream and big lunch I can have in front of Maggie and Eric. The other things will have to wait. Of course, Carter is so red that he looks like a boiled a lobster so it'll probably take some convincing to get him to try again. 

"Oh, there's no tag on this one," the saleslady says. Uh, yeah. Probably because it's the bra I wore in here. 

"Uh … oops … I think I must have on the wrong one." 

"Oh, yeah. Happens more often than you might think. Do you want to go change?" And return to the scene of the 'crime?' I look around … there's still no one here. 

"Maybe I can just take off the tag … do you have any scissors?" 

"Oh, not necessary. I have a long cord," she says. And she pulls out her little scanning wand, leans across the counter, pushes my shirt out of the way and scan the tag which is thankfully on my shoulder. I wonder if anyone else would like to stick their hand in my shirt today. God, I almost feel like I'm at work. But what seems really weird is that no one else seems to think this is odd. As I take my bag and turn around, I spot something else that seems weird to me. 

My brother. Sitting on a bench outside the store. Next to a five-foot-tall teddy bear. He catches my eye and waves with a big grin. 

"John Truman Carter! What did you do?" 

"What?" Carter asks, all wide-eyed innocence. 

I drag him out into the mall and over to the bench where Eric sits.

"That!" I say, pointing to the bear. 

"Oh, _that_."

"I told you 'no,'" I say. 

"But I wanted it, Abby. For the baby. It was on sale." He says, as if that makes a difference. 

"What the hell are we supposed to do with it? I mean, we can't just drag it around the mall all day, not to mention where we're gonna put it once we get home." 

"I can take it out to the car now. We don't have to drag it around the mall."

"Oh no you don't," Eric says. "I want to take it on the roller coaster." 

"Tell me you're kidding," I say to him. 

"Hey, it's not every day that a guy gets a chance to take a giant teddy bear on a roller coaster." 

"I give up," I say. "Crazy. You're all crazy." 

"Yeah, Abby," Eric says, "Some of us are even certifiable."

"Ah!" I screech, tossing my hands over my head, "You know what I mean. You're all … _weird_."

"Where are you going, Ab?" John calls. 

"I'm hungry! I'm going to lunch!" I say as I march toward a nearby restaurant. 

"Abby …" Maggie catches up to me. 

"Abby, wait a minute. What are we supposed to do with …" Carter calls.

"That ridiculously big stuffed toy you insisted on buying? That's your problem." I turn and walk into the restaurant. Maggie, Carter and Eric are right behind me. With the bear in tow. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, laughing in spite of myself. 

"Guess who's coming to lunch, Abby," Eric says. 

"We're not eating lunch with that thing. My God, it would need its own seat." 

"Oh, well," Carter says.

"John, I thought you were taking it out to the car." 

"I changed my mind. I wouldn't want to miss lunch," Carter says. 

"Besides, I kinda like it," Eric tells me. "Too bad it's not a monkey. Then I'd have a monkey on my back. A bear on my back doesn't have quite the same ring." Sure enough, he's walking around with the bear slung over his back. 

"Lunatics," I mutter under my breath.

"How many?" the hostess asks. How many lunatics? Yeah, all of us, I guess. 

"Four," I tell her, "And a bear." I say, giving the guys a look.

"Excuse me?" she asks, looking up. Eric waves one of the bear's paws at her. 

"Oh." She just looks momentarily confused before leading us to a nice big corner booth. Big enough for all _five _of us. The bear gets stuck in the middle between Eric and me. I feel ridiculous. Once the waitress has come to take our order and left again, I look around the table … mainly at the giant bear that's seated next to me.

"This is absurd." 

"Oh, Abby," my mom says, "It's just a bear."

"You don't find it embarrassing?" 

"Oh, that's funny, Abby," Eric says, "Coming from someone who was doing it in a dressing room." 

"We weren't _doing it_." I tell him. 

"Whatever." 

"Ugh," I say, giving him an exasperated look. I can't exactly argue too much about this one. And then I turn to Carter. "I gotta pee. Let me out." I say, giving him a shove that sends him stumbling out of the booth.

I hide out in the ladies' room for a few minutes. Then, figuring my reprieve should probably come to an end; I open the door and find John standing in the hall. 

"Hey, you okay?"

"No. I'm cranky. I'm hungry. I'm frustrated …"

"About the bear?"

"No. About what almost happened, but didn't quite happen, in that dressing room. I'm all … worked up and have no … outlet for it." 

"Sorry." 

"You should be. You started it." 

"What can I do to make up for it?"

"Well …" I say, throwing a look over my shoulder, "The bathroom's empty." 

"Abby …" 

"Oh come on … dressing room, bathroom …" I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him with me as I back into the bathroom and drag him into the stall. 

"I don't know about this …" I push him back against the wall and stand up on tiptoe to kiss him. His arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me closer to him. 

"Mmm …" I laugh, "I knew I could convince you." I give him a big smile. And reach out to pull his shirt loose from his pants and slide my hands under it, running them over his chest. 

"Abby, you know I can't ever resist you." 

"Yes, but you can never listen to me, either."

"Is this about the bear? Look I'm sorry about that, I --" 

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me." He leans forward and captures my lips. 

"See, I listened," he mumbles around the kiss. 

"Uh-huh," I answer as his hands run up my back.

"You're still wearing my favorite bra, aren't you?" he asks, referring the particular scrap of black lace that started it all in that dressing room. What else would I have done with it? 

I pull back a little bit and nod at him, starting to unbutton my shirt. His head falls forward to my neck, his lips following in the wake of my hands. I sigh happily. 

"Abby!" Shit! Not again. 

"Goddamn, does she have some kind of sex radar?" I mumble into Carter's ear. 

"I know you're in here. I can see your feet." She walks over and bangs loudly on the stall door. "Now cut it out, you two! Jesus, don't you ever stop? Put your clothes back on and get back to the table. Lunch is here." She turns on her heel and walks back out the door. 

"I think we're in trouble," he says, putting himself back together. 

"I guess we better get out there, huh?" I admit, reluctantly. 

"Yeah, guess so." 

We head out of the bathroom like a couple of kids being sent to the principal's office after getting caught smoking in the bathroom. And wouldn't you know? Maggie's waiting for us in the hall. 

"What's wrong with you two?" she asks.   


"Hey, I'm pregnant. All these hormones … I can't help it," I say. 

"What's your excuse?" she asks, turning to Carter. 

"Uh …"

"I made him do it. It's all my fault. I _am_ a nymphomaniac, you know. If I don't get some every five minutes, I just go berserk." I say in a stage whisper as we walk down the hall.

"Oh, Abby … you know I don't think that. But really … a _public bathroom_?" I just shrug. We end up giggling. Carter blushes. Again. 

"Oh, my God." I start laughing the minute we walk back into the main dining room. Because that's when I catch Eric engaged in what appears to be a very funny conversation with his new best friend -- a stuffed bear. "Enjoying your _date_?" I ask as I sit down. 

"Yes, thank you. Did you enjoy your sex?"

"No."   


"Sorry to hear that." 

"I mean … there was no sex. It didn't get that far."

"Mom's still walking in on you, huh? Just like that time with … what was his name? Your 'lab partner?'"

"Shut up and eat, Eric." 

"Your lab partner?" Carter asks.

"I'll tell you about it later." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise," I say, reaching over to squeeze his knee under the table. 

The rest of lunch goes smoothly with me rubbing Carter's leg under the table, him returning the favor, my mom giving us suspicious looks, and Eric talking to his bear. I'm not sure we'll be able to get it away from him to give it to the baby. Of course, I know that he's hamming it up for effect. The rest of restaurant doesn't know that, but I guess it doesn't bother my goofy baby brother. But his goofiness makes him … endearing. I certainly prefer it to moody and depressed. As long as he's not _too _goofy. But I'm pretty sure this is baseline for him. He's always been a little bit wacky. And willing to do just about anything for a laugh. Even talk to a practically life-sized bear in public.

After lunch, Eric offers to take the bear out to the car. Frankly, I think he just wants to have some alone time with the thing … which is kind of a scary thought. But while he takes off with the bear, Mom and John and I head off to look for some new clothes for me. Or so they tell me. 

It doesn't take long for me to get an armload of clothing to try on. I move towards the dressing room, but when Carter tries to follow, I hear Maggie's voice.

"Uhn-uh. Not you. You stay here. Things happen when you two are alone in a … cubicle together." 

"Mom …"

"No arguing, Abby. You're gonna be busy trying on clothes, not busy getting busy." 

"Getting busy? I think you're watching too much MTV too, Mom." 

"Never mind. Just get in there." She pushes me into the dressing room, turning around to Carter. I look over my shoulder just as I hear her say to him, "You, sit," as she points him toward a chair just outside the dressing area. Probably a good idea to park him in one place. Otherwise, who knows what he might buy? 

What seems like hours later, my mom has advised me, instructed me, and dressed me up like a her own personal Barbie doll. And I've got a whole new wardrobe that might actually last me through the rest of the pregnancy. It wasn't even _that_ painful. Huh. Who knew?

"So what do you want to do now?" Mom asks, after my selections are paid for, and we are heading back into the mall once again.

"We should probably find Eric," I say.

"Well, I told him to meet us here … and oh, there he is." She waves and heads over to him. John starts to follow, but I put my hand on his arm. 

"I really need to spend some time alone with you." 

"Yeah, but Abby..." 

"No, you don't understand," I say, quietly, "Thanks to this pregnancy, I have all this … blood rushing to certain places, and the more I walk around … and with all these hormones running rampant … I can't take it anymore."

"Well after our little … escapades earlier, I'm feeling the same way."

"So you know what I'm saying … we have to find a way to ditch them. Just for a little while."

"About five minutes ought to do it at this point," he says. 

"I've got an idea," I tell him. "I want to go to the aquarium," I announce. 

"Ugh," Eric says, "Fish. That's boring, Ab. It's nothing but a bunch of fish. It's like staring at a million goldfish bowls." 

"You don't have to go. Maybe we could split up and meet a little later." 

"Well, I did want to check out that craft fair. Do you wanna go with me, Eric?" Mom asks.

"Crafts? That's even more boring than fish."

"It's near Camp Snoopy," she says, referring to the indoor amusement park. "You can ride the roller coaster."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" 

We make plans to meet later and they head off in one direction while John and I head in the other direction. Alone -- finally! We stash our bags in some storage lockers conveniently located just down the hall from the aquarium entrance. And then we descend, hand-in-hand, down the escalator into the dark depths of the mall where the aquarium is located. 

We get our tickets and make a good show of wandering around looking at the various displays. Luckily, it's getting late in the afternoon and it must be naptime for small children and old ladies, so the place isn't too busy. But it is definitely dark. Just what we wanted. While Carter reads aloud the various factoids about the sea life that we are admiring, I just keep finding ways to touch him. My hand on his arm, running through his hair, squeezing his thigh, pinching his butt, tracing a pattern on his chest … We check out the exhibits, but we also keep our eyes open for dark, secluded spots. Part of me can't believe I'm even contemplating this. Another part of me just can't wait for it to happen already. And I'm blaming it all on raging hormones. Yep, that's gotta be it. 

Finally, we come to a darkened alcove. Apparently, they are changing out the exhibits here. Or they've managed to kill everything that should be on display. Whatever, it works out perfectly for our purposes. We slip into the shadows and walk all the way to the end of this little nook. The aquarium is meant to look like a series of coves and underwater caves with curving, bumpy walls … so there are plenty of indentations along the way. We slip into one that affords us even more cover from the flow of traffic down the main corridor. 

Immediately, we fall into each other's arms. 

"It's about time," I say.

"You can say that again."

"It's about time."

"Abby?" 

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me." 

I eagerly oblige, kissing him passionately. While our lips are locked together, we begin furiously pulling at each other's clothing. 

"God, if I'd have known," I say, in between kisses, "I would have worn a dress." 

"Do you own a dress?" He asks. 

"One or two."

"That you would wear to the mall?"

"Doesn't everyone wear Prada to the mall?" 

"Sure. But Abby … do you really want to talk?"

"No, I'd really rather not talk." I say, as his hand slips under my shirt to feel me up over my newly purchased bra. "But we better make this quick."

"Believe me, I can do that."

He leans his head down to kiss me once again. Then his hands are at the waistband of my pants, slipping them down over my hips. I reach for the waistband of _his_ pants, carefully unzipping his fly and releasing his throbbing manhood. He lifts me up quickly, his hands on my waist. I wrap my legs around him, and then I snake my hand in between us and pull the damp crotch of my underpants to one side. I'm beginning to see the wisdom of those crotchless panties now. But I guess this will work just fine. And I'm about to find out. 

With my back against one of the rough the walls, he pushes into me desperately. We both sigh in relief and pleasure. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he buries his head in _my_ neck. He moves quietly, steadily, and quickly in and out of me, bouncing me slightly against the wall with each thrust. It feels so good to finally have him this close to me, exactly where I've wanted him -- needed him -- all day. It feels so good; I can't help but moan in his ear. He moves even faster in response. Strong, purposeful movements so that I feel each stroke as much as possible. The incredible, seemingly-permanent arousal that I've been feeling all day is starting to build to a crescendo within me. 

"Uhn," I moan, as I toss my head back and forth while he pushes deeper. Oh, yes … oh … here we go … close, so close … yes … yes … oh, _yes! _I hit that peak and the waves of pleasure wash over me. John's grunting in my ear as he hits his own peak, and I can feel the heat of it inside of me. For a little while, all we can do is hold onto to one another tightly, trying to return to reality. 

"Oh … wow," I finally say, with a laugh. "That was … something." 

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." He pulls out of me, moves away from me slightly, and carefully sets me back down on the ground. I reach down for my pants and quickly slip them on while he zips up. For a long moment we just stand there, each of us leaning back against opposite walls, grinning at each other. I don't know whether he's the first to laugh, or if I am. But before I know it, we're a fit of giggles. Finally, he reaches out an arm to me, wrapping it around my shoulder as I press close against his side and wrap my own arm around him. That's how we are as we sneak out of own personal … nooky nook. We rejoin the other couples, families, and children walking around among the exhibits. 

"You know," I say my eyes on a young couple pushing a stroller through the aquarium in front of us, "I think our next trip here might be … slightly different."

"Huh?" He says, probably not really paying attention. 

"That's us in a year," I tell him, gesturing to the young family. He nods in recognition.

"And that's us in five years," he says, pointing out a family with four … no _five_ little children.

"Yeah, in your dreams maybe." 

"I'd watch what you say, Abby … you never know." 

"And I'd watch what you wish for." 

"Why? It's worked out pretty well so far. I wished for you … I wished for you to have my baby …"

"Really? You wished for me to have your baby?" 

"Yeah. Of course. This is what I always I wanted. That's what I always wanted," he tells me, nodding to the little family in front of us. 

"Yeah, but you want _that_ too, don't you?" I ask, looking at the decidedly larger family up ahead. 

"Well," he says, with a grin, "Maybe. But all in good time. Nothing we have to worry about now."

"Okay, I won't dash you dreams of an absurdly big family just yet. But I _thought_ we decided on three." 

"Well, that's a good start." 

"One at a time, okay?"

"No twins? Well, you'll have to talk to your ovaries about that one. I can't help what goes on in there, you know." 

I roll my eyes at him. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Yeah." 

"And you, Abby … you get me to do things that I never could have imagined." 

"Such as?"

"Uh … need I remind you of what we doing in here not ten minutes ago?"

"Oh, yeah," I say.

We walk on in a comfortable silence, arms wrapped around each other. 

"Hey, I think it's time we go find the rest of our family," John says after a little while. 

"What?"

"Maggie and Eric? They're probably waiting for us by now, don't you think?"

"Oh. Yeah. But … did you say … _our_ family?" 

"Yeah, sure. What yours is mine and what's mine is yours, right?"

"Yeah, right." 

I guess I hadn't thought about it like that. But he's right, I suppose. We are all one big, happy family now. Especially with this baby, who means so much to all of us, on the way. So we'll go find my -- _our_ family. And we'll all stuff ourselves into a tiny Jeep with a giant bear. And we'll go back to my mother's and order pizza for dinner and eat popcorn and leftover cake while we sit around watching stupid movies. And tomorrow we'll get up and have a giant, family brunch where there's bound to be arguing, spilling, and, possibly, assaults with jars of syrup. After the mess has been cleaned up and our belongings have been packed up, Maggie will send John and me off with tears in her eyes, asking us to come back soon. Eric will tell a bad joke or make some inappropriate comment. I'll be stuck in the back seat so that the enormous teddy bear that my crazy husband bought our unborn baby can ride shotgun. So we're not perfect … so what?

"At least we're not boring," I say.

"What?"

"At least the baby won't be growing up in a boring family." 

"Abby," John laughs, "If there's one thing this family could never be … it's boring." 

"John?"

"Yeah?" 

"Is this what a happy family feels like?"

"Yeah, Abby, I think so." He smiles at me, happy and content.

And in the end, what else really matters? If I can give my baby a happy family to be born into, what else will she … or _he_ ever really need? 


	15. The Name Game

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea 

Rating: R

Summary: Abby and Carter are having a baby. That really narrows it down, doesn't it? When last we saw our favorite couple, they were doing a little shopping (among other things) while paying Grandma Maggie a visit. 

Author's Note: Thanks, COURTNEY and LISA. Thanks for the encouragement and hours speculating and brainstorming. I couldn't do it without you. Thanks for the line-by-line, COURTNEY. To everyone else: thanks for the reviews. Sorry it's been such a long time since I updated this one. Inspiration doesn't come as easy these days. It sort of comes and goes. Therefore, I can't really say when I'll have something up again, but I do have a few things in the works. I know a lot of you want more of Let Go of Your Heart, but that one is on hold for the moment. Sorry, but if I spend my time trying to force that one, nothing will get done. I will try to get back to it, though. I'm still working on the others, just at a somewhat modified pace. Take what you can get, I guess. However, I *may* be able to drum up some holiday inspiration … so be on the look out for possible holiday-themed short and sweet stand alones. 

*~*~*~*

A Dream Life

__

Chapter 15: The Name Game

"Whatcha doin'?" I ask, watching Abby standing in front of the bed in our room, surveying a mountain of … stuff.

"I have no place to go with any of this crap," she says, sounding exasperated. "Ever since we got home from Minneapolis I've been tripping over these bags of clothes. Not to mention that stupid bear."

"What's your problem with the bear?"

"You mean besides it taking up room that we don't have and being completely unnecessary?"

"Yeah, besides that." 

"It stares at me." 

"It stares at you? Abby, it's not real." 

"I know … but I feel like it's watching me. When I'm getting dressed, when I'm sleeping, when we make love. It's creepy." 

"You want me to put it in the other room?"

"Great, then it can watch us when we eat, when we watch TV, when we make love. No thanks." She looks at me for a moment, then over at the bear sitting in a corner of the bedroom, and then back at the pile of clothes on the bed. She sits down with a sigh, looking resigned. "I think … we need a bigger place." There's a tentative note in her voice, like she's afraid that I might protest. 

"Okay," I say. 

"We don't have any room for the baby. I mean … where are we gonna put a baby around here? Or not the baby so much, but all the baby's stuff. I don't even have room for my new fat clothes." 

"They're _maternity_ clothes, Abby. And … you don't have to convince me that we should move; I wanted to look for a bigger place months ago. You were the one who never wanted to talk about it." 

"Well, I guess we're gonna have to do more than talk about it soon. This baby's gonna be here before we know it." She rubs her little round belly beneath the baggy shirt she's wearing. Yes, Baby Carter is making its presence known more and more all the time. And Abby's right, this pregnancy has been going by remarkably quickly. Seems like just yesterday that we found out … and now suddenly, in just a couple more weeks, we'll be at the halfway point. Halfway to the day when we need a house with a nursery. And furniture for that house and nursery. And a more baby friendly car. Not to mention strollers, carseats, high chairs and all the other miscellaneous baby stuff.

"You okay?" Abby asks. "I thought I was the one freaked out about the whole white picket fence routine." 

"I'm fine. I was just thinking about everything we still have to do before the baby gets here. A house, furniture, all the baby stuff, a new car." 

"A new car?" She asks, sounding surprised. "You're gonna give up your Jeep?"

"Well, I thought once we're driving around with the baby, it might nice to have a car with windows that you _don't_ have to zip up. Besides, it's getting old. Time to replace it anyway." 

"Yeah, but every time you replace it, you get the same thing. I know you don't really want to give it up." I shrug. It's not that big of a deal. Not really. Things are gonna change when the baby arrives. So what if I've had the same kind of car for as long as I can remember? "John, just because we're becoming parents doesn't mean that we have to give up all vestiges of our former life. I'm sure there's some compromise we can make. Just like with the house."

"The house?" I ask, not quite sure what she's referring to. 

"Yeah. I know if it were up to you, we'd move into the Carter family mansion … or at least into some big sprawling thing out in the suburbs. But I don't think I'm ready for that. A house, though … something regular-sized, maybe here in the city …" 

"You could live with that?" 

"I think so. As long as it's not too big. And then maybe someday …" She trails off. 

"Baby steps, huh?" I'm not sure if she really thinks that someday she'd want to move into the family home. That's something that I don't really expect to happen. But a house would be nice. Something in between this little apartment and the mansion. I'll be glad just get her out of here, actually.

"Something like that," she says, not sounding especially enthusiastic. I walk over to the bed and sit down next to her, draping my arm over her shoulder. 

"I guess we have to find a realtor and do some house hunting. And some car shopping." I look over at her in time to see her making a face at the thought. "But don't worry … not today. Today we have something more important going on." I move my free hand to her belly. 

"Sonogram day," she says. 

"Yep. We get to find out who's in here," I say, giving the belly a pat. 

"Are you sure you don't mind finding out?" 

"I wasn't aware I had any choice in the matter," I tell her. 

"Well, if you _really _didn't want to know …" I think about that for a minute. There's something appealing about waiting and being surprised. On the other hand, I've been so sure that it's a girl from the very beginning that maybe it would be a good idea to know for sure. And it would certainly make planning and buying for the baby that much simpler.

"No, I think we should find out." 

"Really? Are you sure?" 

"Yeah. I'm sure. Of course, just watch … since we want to know, she probably won't cooperate." 

"Hey … you in there," Abby starts, looking down at her belly, "Mommy and Daddy are gonna get a look at you today … and we'd kinda like to know if you are a boy or girl. So if you could help out with that, we'd really appreciate it."

"Well, I'm sure that will do it."

"It better," she says, flopping back on to the mound of clothes piled up on the bed, "I want an obedient child. Hey, this is kind of comfortable," she says, presumably referring to her pillow of maternity clothes.

"Why, exactly, is all this stuff dumped out on the bed?" 

"Well, ever since we got home from Minneapolis, I've been meaning to put it away, but I never got around to it. But then today, I decided I was sick of looking at all these bags … and I figured if I put it all on the bed, I'd have no choice but to fold it up and hang it up and put it away. And that's when I found out that I have no place to put it away. There's no room in the closet, there's no room in the dresser …"

"Well maybe you could put away your regular clothes, you won't be needing them for a while."

"Put them away where? We don't exactly have an abundance of storage around here. So see? We need a bigger place."

"I'm not arguing with you. But you know … we will need to put this stuff somewhere. We can't exactly sleep on a bed covered in clothes." 

"When you figured out where to go with them, let me know."

"How about under the bed?"

"Oh well, that would be convenient. Fishing my clothes out from under the bed. And with this belly, I'd probably get halfway under and get stuck."

I can't help but laugh because I get an instant image of Abby on her back, on the floor, halfway under the bed with her legs flailing around. Of course, I'm not sure why she would have to actually get under the bed instead of just _reaching_ under the bed … but nevertheless, it's a funny picture. 

"I'm glad you think this is funny." Oops, she sounds a little upset. Even though the mood swings have greatly improved as Abby's moved into the second trimester, they haven't disappeared completely. 

"Sorry. But when I suggested 'under the bed,' I meant we could put your regular clothes under there. Because by the time you need those again, we'll be in our new house … with plenty of space and big, beautiful closets."

"You're awfully optimistic."

"That's my job."

"So I suppose you figure we'll just trip over the perfect house."

"Sure, why wouldn't we?" 

She looks at me for a minute and then rolls her eyes. "Somehow, I don't think we'll be on quite the same page."

"So finding a house we can agree on will be a challenge. It'll be fun."

"Ha. Just keep telling yourself that," Abby says, as she struggles to push herself back up into a sitting position. I give her my hand and help her up. 

"Where are you going?" I ask, as she starts across the room.

"To pee. And then we better get going. I don't want to be late for the sonogram."

"Ab … it's not for another two hours."

"Okay … fine. I want to be early for the sonogram."

"Excited?" I ask her. 

"Yes, of course. And don't pretend like you aren't … I know you didn't sleep half the night last night."

"That was just … indigestion." 

"Uh-huh, sure." Abby says as she heads into the bathroom. I guess she doesn't believe me. Just because I've got the date circled on the kitchen calendar and have been anticipating this day like a kid waiting for Christmas. I would gladly do sonograms every day just to get a glimpse at my baby, and I think Abby feels the same way, at least in part. But she insists, in spite of the scare that terrified us both, that she doesn't want any special treatment. She says that it would only make her worry more, and that kind of stress wouldn't be good for her or the baby. Everything was perfect at the last sonogram, so we've been operating on the assumption that it still is. As tempting as it is to constantly reassure ourselves that the baby is fine with daily sonograms, we both know that there's a fine line between worry and paranoia. And we're both determined not to be overly-anxious, uptight parents so I guess it's best that we start practicing now.

"Deep thoughts?" Abby asks, coming out of the bathroom. 

She studies her image in the mirror for a minute and, I'm guessing by the look on her face, decides something isn't right. She pulls off her shirt and tosses it toward the hamper, coming over to the bed to root through the pile of clothes. Luckily enough, this puts her now bare belly practically at eye level. I put my hands on her hips and pull her over to me, lowering my head slightly to her stomach where I lovingly plant a kiss. 

"I can't wait to see this little one," I say, kissing the bulge again before shifting my gaze upward to look at Abby. 

"Well, that's gonna be kind of tough if you don't stop making out with my belly." But as she says this, she rests her hand lightly on the back of my head, seemingly content to hold my head against her. I turn and put my ear against her bare skin, as if I might be able to hear something.

"So today we find out whether we have a son or a daughter. Last chance to guess," I say to her. "So what do you think … boy or girl?" 

"Girl." She says it so confidently and with so little hesitation that I'm surprised. 

"Really? Since when?" 

"I've thought it was a girl all along." 

"But you always said you didn't have any intuition about it one way or the other."

"So I lied." She shrugs. "Mostly, though, you were just so confident, I _had_ to argue with you." 

"I guess we'll both be awfully surprised if it turns out to be a little boy in here, huh?" 

"Yeah …"

"Will you be disappointed?"

"If it's a boy? Of course not. I'll want him to be just like his daddy. I could never be disappointed with that. What about you?"

"No, I won't be disappointed. Either way is fine. Just so long as she's healthy." Abby chuckles at that, pushing my head away in mock annoyance, before pulling on another shirt. "No, really … a little girl would be wonderful, but a little boy would be lots of fun, too. So no matter what, I'm gonna be happy. Either way, I'm gonna be a daddy. We're gonna be family. There's nothing disappointing about that."

"Nope. Just so long as everything's okay." 

"It will be," I say, hearing the nervousness in her voice.

"I hope so," she says, sitting down next to me on the bed and taking my hand. 

"But it's normal to be nervous. I'm nervous, too." I'm more nervous than I want her to know. Logically, I know there's no reason to worry. The baby was perfect at the last ultrasound, no reason to think that anything is different now. Still, things can change. There are so many things that can wrong … so until I see with my own eyes that everything is fine, a part of me will worry. 

"It'll be okay," she says, giving my hand a squeeze. "You ready to go?" 

"We'll be a little early," I say, glancing at the clock.

She shrugs. "Maybe we'll get in sooner."

"Maybe we'll just be stuck sitting in uncomfortable chairs that much longer." But she's already dragging me across the apartment to the door. I guess we'll go early. 

So an hour later we're sitting in the waiting room … waiting. The chairs are just as uncomfortable as I suspected they would be. But that's okay. If Abby feels better being here, a sore back is a small price to pay. Of course, Abby doesn't seem to be more relaxed here. In fact, she's becoming increasingly nervous, the longer we sit here. I look over at her now and find her frantically flipping through a magazine, snapping the pages as she goes along. Unless she's taken a speed reading course recently, I don't think much of the information is sinking in. I reach over and put my hand on top of hers. She looks at me with a questioning expression. 

"What did this poor magazine ever do to you?" I ask, as I gently take it out of her hands. 

"Sorry. I guess I'm just a little anxious."

"Anxious good … as in you can't wait to see the baby? Or anxious bad … as in you're worried about we'll see?"

"Yes," she says, with a sigh. 

"Both?" She nods. "It'll be okay," I tell her, using the exact words she said to me before we left home. 

We tend to do this … take turns freaking out and reassuring each other. I can be upset or worried myself, but when I look at her and see the fear in her eyes, some instinct to shelter her kicks in, and I find the words to at least try and make her feel better. I can only assume the same is true for her. And the best part is that when I'm busy trying to reassure Abby, I end up making myself feel better, too. 

But right now Abby doesn't seem to be comforted by my words. She's nervously biting on her thumb nail. Somehow I don't think that anything I say is going to really do the trick right now. Until we see a healthy baby on the monitor, we're both gonna be a bit uneasy. A distraction -- that's what we need. I glance down at the magazine in my hands. 

"You know, Abby … we really need to start working on this," I say, gesturing to one of the headings on the cover of the parenting magazine.

"Potty training? I think they usually recommend that you wait until the baby is … you know … _born_ for that." 

"Ha … ha. I meant the one above that. The year's most popular baby names. We have to start working on names." 

"Not Rudyard," she says, right away, but still somewhat distractedly. 

"Would you spell that with an 'n' or a 'k' … I kinda like it with a 'k' myself. Knot Rudyard Carter. It's got a nice ring to it, and it's very nautical."

"Shut up," she says, but with a giggle. "Don't you think we might as well wait until we find out the sex to start discussing names? That'll make it easier by half."

"Well, it never hurts to come up with some general ground rules. What kind of names do you like?" 

She looks at me for a minute and I think that maybe she's not gonna answer me or is just gonna give me some flip response. "Well … nothing too trendy. And no country club names, either," she says, giving me a serious answer, after all. 

"Country club names?" 

"You know … snotty, stuck-up, debutante names. Or long WASPy last names as first names with some stupid nickname. In fact, no last names as first names at all. And nothing made up. And no stupid spellings, either."

"So we're looking for something classic, then? Mainstream, but not too popular?" I ask, flipping through the magazine to find the list of the year's most popular names.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, then, I guess Emily is out," I say, referring to the one name we'd discussed at all so far. "Since it seems to be the most popular name every year."

"Oh," Abby says, clearly disappointed. 

"What? Last time we talked about Emily, you said yourself that it was too popular."

"I know, but …"

"And if it's always in the top ten for girls' names, I guess you were right." 

"Yeah, I guess …" she says, obviously not convinced. 

"You want Emily, don't you?"

"Well, it's a great name. Girly, but not too girly. Cute, but not too cutesy. Classic, but not old-fashioned. Easy to spell and pronounce. It's perfect. No wonder everyone uses it. How much does that suck? It's so perfect that it's too perfect. I mean, it's just _so_ popular …"

"Well … how about Emma? That's kinda close, but not nearly as popular." 

"It's nice. But it's not …"

"Emily. Yeah, I know. I like Emily, too. Hey, maybe we could make her first name Emma and her middle name Leigh. Emma Leigh Carter." Abby turns her head slowly toward me and gives me a long look. "Or maybe not. Look, Abby, if we both like Emily this much, I don't think we should let its popularity deter us. So there's a million other Emilys out there … ours will still be _our_ Emily, the _only _Emily as far as we are concerned. And she will always be incredibly special, even if she shares her name with lots of other little girls."

"Really? You think? I wouldn't want her to hate us for giving her a name that is so …common."

"Actually, I think kids probably like having common names. Makes them feel like they fit in, I would think. And her name will still be somewhat unique. I mean, there may be lots of Emilys in the world, but how many 'Emily Abigail Carter's do you think there are?"

"_Abigail?_"

"Hey, Emily was your idea, I should get to pick the middle name." 

"No, Emily was your idea originally. I said it was too popular, remember?" 

"Yeah, but you're the one who wants it now," I point out.

"And you don't?" Abby sounds a little worried. 

"No, of course I do. I like it. A lot. I can't think of anything else I would rather choose. But still, you were the one who set the parameters. How do you know I didn't want a country club name? And you're the one who absolutely loves Emily and always has … so I should get some say in the middle name, don't you think?"

"There's a difference between having some say and just choosing it." 

"Fine. I should get to choose it then. Please?" 

"But Abigail?" 

"Would you prefer Millicent?" 

"Abigail's good."

"I thought you might see it that way. Besides, what's wrong with wanting to name her after her mother?"

"Okay, okay. If it's that important to you."

"It is." 

"So … Emily Abigail Carter. What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect."

"But if it's a boy, _his_ middle name will be John." 

"I can live with that," I tell her. "But what do you want his first name to be?"

"Well, I guess if we're picking a wildly popular girls' name, maybe that's where we should start for boy's names."

"Michael?" I ask, consulting the list. 

"Nah. I don't like Gallant _that_ much."

"Jacob?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Joshua?"

"No!"

"Don't like Joshua, okay. How about Joseph?"

"Nah."

"Andrew?"

"I don't think so."

"Nicholas?"

"Not bad. But I'm not sure that I love it." 

"Matthew?" 

"Matthew … Now that I like. Matt, Matthew. Matthew Carter. Matthew John Carter."

"Matthew, huh?" 

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah … I do," I say, honestly.

"Me too. It's not too tough-guy. And it's not too fruity, either."

"It's just the right amount of fruity?" I ask, with a chuckle. 

"Something like that." 

"So … Matthew John or Emily Abigail?" I'm happy with our choices. I like them a lot. I'm a little surprised, though, that it turned out to be this easy. Somehow I thought we would be debating for months. Instead, we got in all wrapped up in ten minutes, while sitting around a waiting room. Not too bad. 

"Yeah," Abby says, with a smile. "Emily or Matthew. Now we just have to find out which one you are." She directs this last comment to her belly. 

"Wow. Our child has a name."

"And as soon as we find out the sex, we'll know which one. And then you can stop calling it Flubber." 

"Maybe."

"Maybe? No, I think you _will_ stop calling it Flubber."

"You going to make me?"

"Yes." She gives me a coy little smile. 

"And just how are you going to do that?" I ask.

"I have my ways," she says, leaning in to kiss me.

We're still lip-locked when a voice calls out, "Abby Carter?" 

"It's time," I say quietly, pulling a way from Abby. "You ready?"

"Yeah." It's almost a whisper, and I know her nerves have probably returned full force. I know mine have. I've seen too much; I know too much about all the dangers, everything that can go wrong. There's a knot in the pit of my stomach. But I put on a smile for Abby and offer her both my hands, helping her up. 

"C'mon … let's go find out who's in there," I say. 

"So is this your first sonogram?" The tech asks cheerfully as she leads us back to the exam room. 

"Uh … no," I say. "We did one several weeks ago." 

"Here?" She asks. 

"Downstairs. We work in the ER," Abby explains. 

"Oh. Couldn't resist the temptation with all the equipment right there, huh?"

"Something like that," I say. 

"Right in here," the tech directs us. "You can just lie down on the table, and we'll get started." 

Abby gets herself situated on the table, pushing her clothes out of the way to reveal her bare stomach. I sit down in the stool that is by her head and pick up her hand. 

"Did you bring a video tape?" The tech asks.

I look at Abby, who nods. "In my bag." I fish it out and hand it to the tech and then resume my position, holding Abby's hand again. 

"Okay, this will be a bit cold." Abby stiffens a bit as the cold gel hits her skin, but moments later, we are both riveted to the screen. 

There's an image. 

Our baby. 

I squeeze Abby's hand. She turns her head and looks at me, and we share a smile. At first glance, at least, everything looks good. A perfect little baby. Everything fully formed and just where it should be. No obvious deformities. The heart beating steadily, nice and strong. And lots of movement. Soft, fluid movements of little arms and legs. 

"It looks like a real baby now," Abby says. And indeed, in the few weeks since the last sonogram, the baby has gone from looking like Flubber to looking like an actual baby. Tiny and still somewhat oddly proportioned, but a baby nonetheless. While we watch, one hand comes up, fingers splayed. 

"Oh! She's waving at us. Hi, baby," I say to the screen. 

"She?" The tech asks. 

"Just a guess," I tell her. 

"Ah. Would you like to find out the sex?" 

"Yeah, we want to know," Abby tells her. 

"Okay. We'll take a look. But let's start at the top and work our way down." So, starting with the baby's head, we take a closer look, the tech recording measurements and pointing things out to us that we already know. But it's still good to hear it said out loud -- everything is just right with the baby. Fully developed lobes in the brain, healthy organ systems, no birth defects of any kind. 

"The baby looks good. Healthy." Even though Abby and I knew this from seeing the images ourselves, we can't help but grin at each other when we hear those actual words. A healthy baby. Boy or girl, I don't care. We're lucky enough to have a healthy baby, what else matters? 

"Congratulations," the tech says, "It's a girl." 

Abby's eyes get wide and the smile on her face gets a little bit bigger. I can only imagine that I look much the same. After a moment, my eyes move away from Abby's and look to the screen. And sure enough, it's a girl. No doubt about it. 

"A girl," Abby says, sounding awestruck. 

"Yeah, it's a girl."

"It's Emily," she says. And right away, the name clicks. It just sounds -- and feels -- right.

"Hi, Emily," I say, calling my child -- my daughter -- by her name for the first time. I have to admit, it's much better than Flubber. 

"We were right," Abby says. 

"About her being a girl or about the name?" 

"Both." For a few minutes, we both get lost staring at the images of our daughter on the screen. So tiny, so perfect. Such a miracle. There are tears in our eyes, but smiles on our faces as this new reality sinks in.

The technician finally turns off the monitor, with Abby and I waving good-bye to the baby. She hands us our videotape and some still pictures before leaving the room. 

"We have a daughter," Abby says, rubbing the bulge that is currently home to our little girl. 

"I know. It's … incredible." 

"Are you happy?" 

"Are you kidding? My daddy's little girl? Of course, I'm happy. Besides, I like being right."

"But mostly you like the idea of having a little girl who will worship the ground you walk on," she says with a teasing smile.

"No, I like the idea of having a little girl just as wonderful as her mommy." 

Abby gives me a little eye roll, but she moves off the table and stands in front of me, wrapping her arms loosely around my neck.

"Her daddy is pretty wonderful, too." 

"She's a lucky little girl."

"Our little girl … our little Emily. That is … as long as you're sure." 

"About naming her Emily?" Abby nods in affirmation. "I'm sure. I think it's just right. Emily Abigail. I love it." 

"Me too." 

"Even the Abigail part?" 

"Well, I'm getting used to that part. But it's growing on me, I guess. It does flow nicely. And … I think she likes it." 

"How would you know that?"

"Mother's intuition," she says wryly.

"Is that right? What do you think, Flubber? You want to be named Emily?" I ask the belly, giving it a little pat.

"I'm sure she prefers it to Flubber." 

"Well, who wouldn't? Emily's a beautiful name. Much better than Flubber." 

"So stop calling her Flubber and start calling her by her name," Abby instructs as she makes her way toward the door. 

"Yes, Mommy," I say, catching up with her and grabbing her hand. 

"Don't call me 'Mommy.'" 

"You know you love it." A small smile spreads across her face. 

"Well, I'll love it when _she_ calls me 'Mommy' … when you do it, it's still a little creepy."

"Just trying to get you used to it."

"I don't think I'll have any trouble getting used to being a mommy." 

"Of a little girl," I add.

"I know." 

"I can't believe we got a girl. Not that a little boy wouldn't have been wonderful … but this …"

"Just feels right," Abby finishes for me. "Of course, we'd probably be saying the same thing if it were a boy." 

"Yeah, probably. But now that I know she's a girl, I guess it's okay to say that a girl was my first preference."

"So it really was wishful thinking." 

"What?"

"You know, the way you always called the baby 'she' … I was never sure if it was wishful thinking or reverse psychology."

"You thought maybe I really wanted a boy?"

She shrugs. "Well, I wasn't sure. But I can tell from the grin on your face that you're pretty happy." 

"Yeah, I am. And you look pretty happy yourself," I inform her.

"Well I should … because I am."

"Me too," I say, ushering Abby into the elevator. "I've got all I ever wanted. You and … Emily." I rub Abby's belly lovingly, thinking that how weird, but great, it is that the little person in there suddenly has a name, an identity. My daughter, Emily. Amazing. 

"John," Abby says, interrupting my thoughts, "We're hungry. Can we go get something to eat?" 

"Sure, what sounds good?" 

"Waffles." 

"Waffles? At 3 o'clock in the afternoon?" 

"Please?" 

"For you, Abby? Anything." 

And I would give her anything asked for. Why wouldn't I? She's giving me something priceless. A daughter. A family. She's making me a father. And everyday I'm grateful to have her and our baby in my life. 

"C'mon," I say to Abby, slipping my arm around her waist, "Let's go get you your waffles." She gives me a big grin and the three of us start on our way together, as a family. For the first time as Mommy, Daddy, and little girl. It's not just Abby and I anymore; now our little family officially has a new member. Little Emily Abigail. And I couldn't be happier. 


	16. Practice Makes Perfect

__

Title: A Dream Life

Author: Andrea

Rating: R

Summary: Abby and Carter are happily married and having a baby. A girl. Imagine that. 

Author's Note: Thanks, COURTNEY. The line-by-line editing was awesome, as usual. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I know that a lot of you are waiting for updates on the other fics, and I'm working on them. But first I have a Christmas fic to finish. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this.

*~*~*~*

A Dream Life

Chapter 16: Practice Makes Perfect 

"Thank God this shift is almost over," I say, plopping down in a chair next to Carter.

"Tired?" He asks, giving me a sympathetic smile. 

"Tired of being here."

"Aww, poor Abby." This time he sounds slightly less sympathetic and slightly more sarcastic. 

"Hey … give me a break. This," I say, gesturing around the ER, "is like my second job, now." 

"Second job? What's the first?" 

I give him a look, wondering if he's serious. I look down at my stomach pointedly. "Um … the twenty-four-a-day job that I have. I like to think of it as … having your baby."

"She's right, you know," Susan says from behind me. "It's not like you can ever take a break from pregnancy." So now we are both giving him a look. 

Apparently the guilt trip works since he stands up and, moving behind me, begins to massage my shoulders. "Better?" He asks. 

"Mmm," Is my only response.

"Yeah," Susan says, "That's better. Abby is doing all the work, you know … and you get to reap the rewards, too. So I wouldn't think a little sympathy would be so much to ask for." See, I knew I liked her for a reason. 

"He's really very good," I tell Susan. "Understanding … patient … and he's getting quite good at the whole foot massage thing. Not bad with the shoulders, either."

"Glad I'm good for something," John says. "And it is the least I can do." 

"That's right . Since I'm the one who gets the back aches and swollen ankles. Heartburn and insomnia."

"You don't have any of that," Carter tells me. As if he would know. 

"Well … not _yet._ But I will." 

"How do you know?" He asks. 

"Typical pregnancy side effects. Everyone knows that. Besides, it says so in the book." 

"Ugh," John groans, "That damn book." 

"Hey, you're the one who bought that damn book." 

"Yeah, but I didn't know it was gonna become our bible. I didn't know we'd have to eat sleep and breathe that book like it was gospel." 

"John," I say, a note of warning in my voice. He knows I don't like being teased about this. 

"And it's not just that one," he says, turning to Susan now. "It's all of them. Okay, yeah … _I _bought them. But I thought they would be for reference … or maybe we'd glance through them from time to time. I think Abby here has read them all cover to cover. Twice."

"Cut it out, Carter," I say, but he doesn't seem to notice the sharpness in my voice. Neither does Susan, who's grinning with Carter.

"And maybe if it were just the pregnancy or baby care books, that would be one thing. But she's even got a book on baby products so that we can do research before we go and buy the baby stuff. And I _didn't_ buy that one. Or the book on potty training. Or the one on choosing a preschool. I think Abby's completely up-to-date on child development through at least age six, right Ab?" 

"And I thought you'd be the bad one," Susan says to Carter, shaking her head at him. Bad one? What's she implying? And why the hell is this so funny to them?

"I think Abby wins in the most neurotic parent-to-be contest. Don't ya, Ab?" He ruffles my hair while asking, probably thinking he's being cute.

"Shut up!" It just sort of bursts out of me … just before the tears bubble up. I shrug his hands off my shoulders and bolt from my chair toward Exam One. 

"Abby?" I hear Susan call. "I think she's upset," she says, presumably, to Carter. It's a good call on her part. 

I push into the exam room and, luckily, find it empty. I shut the door behind me and twist the blinds closed. Snagging a box of tissues, I climb onto the gurney an settle in for a nice long cry. 

"Abby?" Carter pushes the door open quietly moments later and slips in the room.

"Go away," I sniffle. 

"Hey, don't do that," he says, taking his place next to me on the gurney and picking up my hand. 

"Leave me alone," I say, jerking my hand away. 

"I'm sorry." I don't say anything, just stare down at my hands in my lap, fiddling with the tissue box. "Ab? I'm sorry that I upset you. I was just goofing around. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He puts his hand on the back of my head and smoothes down my hair soothingly. I don't protest. Not even when his hand slips off my head and down my back, coming to rest alongside my hip. He uses his arm to pull me towards him, forcing me to lean against him. "You're not gonna stay mad at me are you?" 

I look up at him and see him smiling at me. But sincerely and contritely, without a trace of mockery. He doesn't seem amused anymore, but rather, he seems concerned. He pulls a tissue out of the box in my lap and uses it to wipe the tears off my cheeks. I sniffle a few times, trying to fight the tears and regain control. 

"No," I finally say. "I'm not gonna stay mad at you." 

"Good." He kisses the top of my head. "I really am sorry, you know. I never want to make you cry." 

"I know. And I'm sure I'm just overreacting. Hormones, you know. I'm overly sensitive about the whole thing … it's just that … I don't want be teased about this. It's too important me." 

"The books?" He asks, sounding legitimately confused. 

"No. Motherhood." 

"But I was just teasing you about the books." 

"No, you weren't. I mean, you were … but it's what they represent. I know you think it's silly that I read them all the time. And maybe it is a little neurotic, but … I just … I just want to be a good mother. For Emily. And I want to do whatever I can to make sure that I'll be the best mother that I can be. And the only way I know how to do that right now is to read everything I can about it. And try to figure out the best way to do things once she gets here. I just don't want to screw it up."

"Oh, Abby," he says, reaching around to wrap his other arm around and pulling me into a hug. "You're gonna be the best mother. You really are. And you don't need the books to tell you how to do it. You're lucky, you've got amazing instincts. And our little girl is incredibly lucky that she's gonna have a mother like you. A mother who is so concerned that she'd read every baby book under the sun if she thought it meant making her little Emily happier. You'd already do anything for her, wouldn't you?" 

I nod against his chest. It's true. I would. Anything. I won't let anyone hurt her, ever. Especially not myself. And I just want to do everything I can now to guard against that. So that if there's ever a time when I'm at my wits end and frustrated beyond belief … maybe something that I've read, that I've learned will pop into my head before I do something wrong … something that would screw her up for life. 

"See?" John is saying, "You don't need the books. You already know how to be a good mother. But if it makes you feel better to read them, then you should. And I was wrong to make fun of it. You're just trying to be a good mom. And you have no idea how much I admire you because of that. Seeing the kind of mom you're gonna be? Abby, it just makes me love you all the more. And it makes me pretty proud of myself, too." 

"Proud of yourself?" I ask, looking up at him. 

"Uh-huh," he says, with a little half smile, "That I did such a good job picking the right person to be my children's mommy." 

"Oh," I say with a little chuckle. "Thank you. I guess I didn't do so bad getting good daddy material, either." I lean more fully against his chest, happy to be wrapped up safe in his arms. For a few moments that seem like hours, we stay cuddled up together in a nice, safe cocoon, and I, for one, don't really want to go anywhere. But then suddenly, I find myself moving away from him. He gives me a questioning look. 

"Oh my God," I say, looking down at my belly. "Did you feel that?" 

"What?" he asks, a bit breathlessly, his eyes searching mine. 

I grab his hand and put it against my belly. "She's kicking." I'm a little amazed that the fluttery little almost-nothings that I've been feeling the past few days have suddenly resolved into such a strong, purposeful movement. I know this is the way it happens, of course. But actually feeling it is something else all together. 

"What?" John says again, still breathless and awestruck. "She's kicking?" 

"Uh-huh." I nod. "Just wait a minute, she'll do it again." 

"When?" 

"Well, I don't know … she doesn't let me in on it. But if she did it once, she'll do it again. Just have a little patience, Daddy." 

Keeping his hand on my belly, he leans his head down toward it as well. "Emily … Emily? Kick for Daddy. C'mon, Em … I'm waiting. One good kick for your daddy? Please, Emily?" 

"I don't think she understands English yet," I tell him with a giggle. 

"Should I try it in French?" He asks. 

"I don't think that will work, either. I don't know why you're in such a hurry anyway. You usually are looking for an excuse to feel up my belly." 

"Em-i-ly," he calls in a singsong voice with his head up against the bulge, his hands framing the roundness. "Can't you do something?" He asks, looking up at me. 

"Like what? She may be inside of me, but I don't control her, you know. I'm just her host." 

"Well, we're gonna have to stay right here until I get to feel her kick."

"Fine with me. It looks a little peculiar … you lying here on this gurney with your face pressed against my stomach, but, you know, whatever."

"Well, it's not like there's anyone in here," he says, pulling his head away from my body to look up at me, "And I have to tell you, they already think we're a little peculiar, anyway," 

"There! Did you feel that?" I ask as I feel another good kick. 

"That's not funny, Abby." 

"Who's being funny? She just kicked. Right … here," I say, moving his hand to where his cheek was just moments ago. 

"I missed it? I can't believe I missed it." 

"She'll do it again."

"Yeah, sure … as soon as I move my hands away." He looks so disappointed that I take pity on him. Not that I think it'll do any good, but … 

"Emily … c'mon now, babe … kick for your Daddy," I instruct my belly, poking at the bump. 

"Hey! She kicked!" Carter's whole face lights up as we feel the little thump. "That is so cool." He sounds a little awestruck, like he can't quite believe it. Which makes sense, since that's exactly how I feel. My baby is kicking. 

"It's even better than cool. It's all those other words that we seem to keep using all the time these days. It's incredible." 

"Amazing." 

"Awesome." 

"Miraculous."

"Yeah. A miracle," I say, distractedly, lost in thoughts that I ultimately decide to voice. "You know, up in OB, sometimes it becomes kinda common place. Sometimes you forget just what a miracle it is. But now, being a part of it myself … not only am I reminded of how extraordinary it is, but I'm realizing every day that it's more of a wonder than I ever knew. Five months ago, John … there was just you and I … but now … now there's a whole new person that didn't exist before. From nothing into a baby growing inside of me … kicking me. It's … wow." 

"I know. I can't imagine a bigger miracle."

"We're so lucky," I say quietly. 

"That's just what I was thinking." We spend the next few minutes just admiring my belly, laughing each time we feel a little thump against our hands from Little Miss Emily. 

"I guess we should get back to work," I say eventually. 

"Well, _I _should get back to work," John says, sounding reluctant. "You get to go home now." 

"Hey, that's right," I say, smiling at the idea. 

"Glad to see you're feeling better. You're okay now?" 

I nod. My bout with self-doubt seems to be over … for now. These fears and insecurities tend to crop up every now and then, and maybe always will. But at the moment, I'm okay. So I take John's hand and we sneak out of our refuge. He needs to get back to work, and I need to get out of here. We part company with a kiss when he goes to greet a new patient, and I head for the lounge to collect my things.

"Abby!" A little voice calls out excitedly to me as I walk through the door. 

"Hey, Susie," I say, happy to see her. 

She runs over to me and throws her arms around my waist, giving me a tight hug. Of course I reciprocate, hugging her back. Since she's been living with her Aunt Susan the past couple of months, I've spent plenty of time with her. And we're getting to be … friends, I guess you would say. I like her a lot; she's a great kid. She's pretty much Susan all over again. Only shorter. And with a directness and honesty that you can only really find in kids. This display of affection for example … happy as Big Susie might be to see me at any given time, she's never lunged at me and thrown her arms around me. It's kinda cool to have someone around who is so open with their feelings. 

"Hi, Emily," Susie says, pulling away from me and patting my belly. She seems intrigued by the pregnancy, always asking about the baby. And she was very excited to find out that I'm having a girl. Luckily, both Big and Little Susie approved our choice in names (because God only knows what would have happened if they didn't) and have quickly settled into addressing the baby as Emily. 

"What are you doing here, kiddo?" I ask her. "Shouldn't you still be in school?" 

"Early dismissal."

"No after care?" I ask, referring to the school's late afternoon program that she usually attends when Susan is working. 

"No, thank God. I _hate_ after care."

"You do? Why?" 

"It's boring. We have to make stupid crafts. Or play dodge ball. I don't wanna play dodge ball." 

"I don't blame you, I wouldn't want to play dodge ball either. I guess you could always … do your homework," I suggest in an exaggerated sarcastic voice. She laughs, but rolls her eyes at me. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about it today." 

"No, I'm just stuck here instead. Which is _just_ as boring."

"Maybe Alex will be by after he gets out of school," I suggest. It just gets me a horrified look. "What?" 

"That kid's a freak. His behavior is truly bizarre. I think he needs some psychiatric help." 

"How old are you again? Are you sure you're in grade school? Because you talk like a 35-year-old." 

"I read a lot," she tells me. "Aunt Susan says that's where I get my expansive vocabulary." 

"Expansive, huh? I don't think I could have _spelled_ expansive when I was your age, much less used it correctly in a sentence." 

She just giggles and watches me get my stuff together. "Are you going home now?" I nod. "Lucky." She makes a face, presumably about her lot in life … getting stuck sitting around the doctors' lounge. 

"You wanna come with me?" 

"Really?" She asks excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. 

"Sure. As long as it's okay with your aunt. But I have to warn you … I have to run some errands on the way it home, so it may be …. _boring_."

"No, it won't." 

"And I don't know that there's anything fun to do at my place either. So it might not be any better than this place." 

"Yes, it will. You'll be there." I can't help but smile at that. It's nice to feel so well-liked. "And I promise I won't bug you or anything. I'll help. You know, with dinner and stuff. Or whatever else. I don't mind helping with chores." 

"Oh, good. Today's the day I scrub the toilet."

"Okay … I'll help." She's such a sweet kid, I really shouldn't tease her. 

"I was just kidding," I tell her making a silly face and ruffling her hair. "Boy, you must really want to get out of here." 

"Desperately." I shake my head at that. 

"C'mon … let's go find Aunt Susan." 

We find Susan in an exam room, peering into a patient's ear. She looks up when we open the door and smiles at us as we stand in the doorway. 

"Can Susie come home with me?" 

Susan gives me a long look, then turns a suspicious eye toward her niece. "Susie? You didn't invite yourself to Abby's did you?" 

"No, I swear I didn't," Susie tells her. 

"She didn't. It was all my idea. She seemed a little … _bored_," I say, sharing a look with Susie. "I'm off now, and I wouldn't mind some company this afternoon. Carter's on until 8." 

"Oh," Susan says, understanding. "Are you sure you want to baby-sit, though?" 

"I'm not baby-sitting," I tell Susan, wrapping an arm around Susie's shoulder, "We're just hanging out." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes," I say, a little exasperated already. 

Susan narrows her eyes at a us for a minute. "Okay. But Susie … listen to Abby and do what she tells you. And don't expect her to entertain you all the time. Take your homework and your books, okay?" 

She nods happily, and walks over to Susan to give her a hug, "Thanks, Aunt Susan." 

"Don't thank me, thank Abby." 

"Thanks, Abby." My turn to get a hug. "I'm gonna go get my stuff," she says as she leaves for the lounge. 

Susan finishes up with the patient and joins me in the hallway outside the exam room. 

"You don't have to let her talk you into these things, you know." 

"She didn't talk me into anything … and you're the one who always says I should be practicing."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"_Susan_. I was the one who suggested it. I wouldn't have said anything if I minded. So … when do you want me to bring her home?" 

"No, I'll pick her up." 

"Okay. What time? I have a few errands so just in case …"

"Well, I'm off at 3 ..."

"For some reason, I hear a 'but' at the end of that sentence. Let me guess … since I've already got her, you want me to keep her for a while."

"Would you mind?" Susan asks hopefully. "Luka's off today … and it would be kind of nice if we could spend some time just the two of us. I mean, he's great about doing stuff with Susie … but sometimes it's nice to be alone. It's just that I feel bad enough already that I work so much … I hate to leave with her a baby-sitter on top of it, just so that I can go out. But this would be a great chance for dinner … maybe a movie." 

I raise an eyebrow at her. "I can think of a much better way than dinner and a movie to spend your kid-less time. I guess you two really do need to spend some time alone."

"Abby." 

"So when do you want to pick her up? Tomorrow? Next week?" 

"I was thinking more like 7 or 8. Get her home in time for bed." I give her a long look. "But I might take you up on that sleepover offer sometime soon." 

"But not on a school night? Because I certainly couldn't be trusted to get her to school in time."

"This is you and Carter we're talking about Abby. You two would probably be in the shower together for three hours, and Susie would have to call a cab." 

"Oh, haha. You know, that's not funny." 

"What's not funny?" Susie asks, coming up and taking hold of my hand. 

"Your Aunt Susan." Susie looks back and forth between us, but doesn't say anything. "We were just talking about you coming to my place for a sleepover some time. Would you like that?" 

"Yeah! Tonight?" 

"No, not tonight. Your aunt doesn't seem to think I'm responsible enough to keep you on school night. It would probably have to be a weekend." 

"This weekend?" She asks with brimming excitement.

"No, Miss Munchkin, not this weekend," Susan tells her, yanking lightly on one of her braids. "Do you have all your stuff?"

"Yep."

"Got your homework?"

"Uh-huh." 

"Your jacket?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not gonna find your stuff spread all over the lounge? You're not gonna call me in five minutes and ask me to look for something you can't find, are you?" 

"No, I've got everything."

"Okay. Be good," Susan tells her. "Thanks!" She calls to me as Susie and I make our way down the hall. 

We find the Jeep in the parking lot and Susie climbs into the backseat while I get in behind the wheel. It's already becoming a tough maneuver. 

"This is a cool car," Susie says from the backseat as we get underway. 

"Thanks. It's Carter's. Well, I guess it's both of ours, but he's the one who choose it."

"How come you call him Carter?" 

"I don't know," I say with a shrug while keeping an eye on the delivery truck next to me that seems intent on running us off the road. "I guess because when I met him, that's what everybody called him. Why? Do you think it's weird?"

"Kinda. I mean, Carter's your name, too."

"Yeah." I forget that sometimes. I mean, I know what my own name is, of course. And when I hear 'Abby Carter' I know that's me. But … 'Carter' is still … well, Carter. Even after all this time. I guess by now it's become like a pet name. 

"I like him."

"Who?" I ask, afraid I may have missed something. 

"Carter." The 'duh' is implied in her tone of voice. "He's nice."

"Yeah, he is," I agree, as I pull into a parking space at the grocery store. 

"What?" Susie asks, as she gets out of the car. She's probably noticed the faraway look on my face. 

"I was just thinking … you know, he really _is_ nice. I don't think I've been quite so nice to him lately. Not that I've meant to be … mean to him. But with being pregnant, I've been kinda … sensitive. I get upset about things that usually wouldn't bother me at all." 

"Mood swings?" She asks, with a sympathetic smile as if she knows how bad it can be. 

"Yeah. And he's been great about understanding. And trying to help me. And what does he get in return? Just more of me being bitchy -- oops, sorry," I say, embarrassed to have forgotten that I'm talking to a kid.

"It's okay … I already know the 'b' word. Lots of others, too." 

"Okay. Glad I wasn't the one to corrupt you." 

"No, my mom took care of that," She tells me as we push our way into the grocery store. Guess I don't have to explain what 'corrupt' means. 

"My mom, too," I say, remembering some the more colorful phrases I learned at Maggie's knee. 

"You want me to push the cart?" Susie asks, wanting to be helpful, I'm sure. 

"Sure," I nod, letting her take the 'wheel.'

"Is your mom a drug addict?" She asks, casually, as if substance abuse among family members is a regular topic of conversation. Then again, I suppose maybe it is. 

"Nope," I tell her. "My mom has … other problems. But drugs wasn't really one of them."

"That's good," Susie nods. "Drugs will mess you up. My mom's a drug addict. She stops sometimes. But then she starts again. And she drinks too much. She and my step-dad fight about it all the time. I hate it when they fight."

"It's scary, isn't it?" 

"Did your parents fight a lot, too?" 

"Um … I don't really remember. My dad left when I was pretty young. But I know how frightening it is when your parents seem out of control." 

Susie studies me for a minute while helping me pick out some apples. "It's better here, though." She finally says, maybe feeling that admitting that is a betrayal of her parents. 

"That's good. I know your aunt Susan loves having you here with her. And I'm sure your parents miss you, but if you're happy here … I'm sure they want you to be happy." 

"I'm sure they want me out of the way. So now Aunt Susan's stuck with me."

"Susie," I say as we wander down the cookie aisle, and I put one of everything in the cart, "your Aunt Susan isn't _stuck_ with you. She's thrilled to have you here with her. This summer, when you were at camp, she told me how much she was hoping you'd be able to stay. She loves you, and she wants you to be happy. And she knows that it's kinda hard for you with your parents right now. But you know, your parents didn't want you to go … Susan had to do a lot of talking to convince your mom that it would be the best thing for you. When you love somebody, you want them to be happy. Even if that means that it might make you miserable. Especially when it comes to parents with their kids. So long as the kids are okay, they're willing to do just about anything." 

"Would you do it?" 

"What?" I ask, trying to decide between original Chips-A-Hoy and the soft and chewy variety. 

"Send Emily away." That gets my full attention. My hand drops automatically to my little belly. At the moment I can't even imagine not being in constant contact with her 24 hours a day. Send her away? The thought alone is enough to bring me to tears. But I try to ignore that and concentrate on what Susie's really asking. 

"I wouldn't _send her away_," I say slowly and with emphasis, looking this sweet little girl directly in the eyes so that she'll know I mean every word I'm about to say. "But if I thought that she needed something that I couldn't give her … if I thought _my _problems were hurting her and someone else could take better care of her until I got my life together … yes, I'd let her go somewhere that I knew she'd be safe and happier than I could make her. It doesn't mean I wouldn't love her anymore. In fact, it's only because I love her that I would let her go in the first place. Does that make sense?" 

She nods and smiles a little bit. Then the smile turns into a big grin as she watches me load the cart up with Fudge Stripes, Nilla Wafers, and the Chips-A-Hoy. "Boy, that sure is a lot of cookies for two people. You and Carter must like cookies." 

"These are mostly just for me. And Emily."

"Cravings?" She asks. How does she know this stuff? 

"Yeah. Last night it was apple pie. At three in the morning. Poor Carter."

"Did he get it for you?"

"Uh-huh. Four different stores. In the middle of the night." I stop and think about that for a minute. Carter driving around at 3 a.m. looking for an all-night grocery store with a bakery stocking apple pie. "He's such a good guy. And I'm not even sure if I thanked him. He's always going out of his way to do nice things for me and then, thanks to these mood swings, half the time I just end up yelling at him. Now I feel kinda bad."

"Maybe you should do something nice for him," Susie suggests. 

"Oh yeah? Like what?" 

She shrugs. "I don't know. How about a nice dinner? That's what my mom does for Joe when she's trying to butter him up for something. Can you cook?"

"Sure. I'm not a gourmet chef or anything … but yeah, I can cook. Dinner, huh?" Am I really taking marriage advice from a ten-year-old? 

"Something special. What's his favorite food? You should get his favorite food." 

"That's a good idea." Yeah, I guess I am taking advice from a kid. 

"So what does he like?" Um … that's a good question. This is Carter we're talking about. Growing up the way he did, he's no stranger to white salmon mousse … but he seems happiest with a bagel. And the past few months, he hasn't even bothered to voice an opinion, but simply gone along with my craving of the moment. 

"Well …" I start, considering my options. We turn down and aisle full of dried pastas. "Ooh, pasta sounds good. With a cream sauce. No, a marinara sauce. Ooh, macaroni and cheese." 

"Abby." Susie's voice and tone are very reminiscent of her aunt's. She's scolding me. "Not what you want," she says, shaking her head, "What he would want." 

"Um …" 

"How about steak?" Susie finally suggests, probably deciding that I'm hopeless. 

"Steak? Yeah, steak sounds good. Steak with macaroni and cheese on the side." I'm sure my eyes light up at the thought. But Susie is shaking her head again. 

"Forget the mac and cheese. I think that would kinda ruin the whole 'special' thing." 

"But now I really want the mac and cheese."

"Well, I like mac and cheese. We can have it as a snack. Or call it my dinner." 

"That's an even better idea." I like how this kid thinks. I give her a smile as I toss a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese into the cart. 

We cruise through the rest of the store with me loading up the cart with everything that catches my eye … so pretty much everything goes into the cart. Susie helps me plan my dinner menu, right down to the dessert. It's a lively debate that finally ends with me suggesting a brownie sundae -- brownies topped with ice cream covered in chocolate sauce and whip cream. Susie likes the idea of all that gooey chocolate; my mind is already considering _all_ the possibilities of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. 

"Hey, look … Jell-O." Susie says, picking up a box. "I used to love this stuff when I was a kid." 

"When you were a kid?" I ask. What is she now? "I still love this stuff. We could make some this afternoon. Maybe I should just use that for dessert." Jell-O also has interesting possibilities. 

"I don't think Jell-O Jigglers are very romantic." 

"No, but they're fun." 

"So we can make them. Eat them with our macaroni and cheese." 

"Okay, toss it in," I tell her as we make our way to the check-out. 

An hour and several errands later we're finally walking in the door at home. Just as the phone starts to ring. I drop the bags on the table and a grab the receiver. 

"Hello?"

"Hey." Carter. Calling to check up on us, I guess.

"Hey." I say with a smile, "How's it going?" 

"Good. Pretty quiet. I hear you have a play date this afternoon."

"Yep." Susie is currently unpacking the bags and putting all our cold purchases in the fridge. It's kinda handy having her around. 

"Did you just get home?"

"Yep," I say again. "And I've got a surprise for you when _you_ get home."

"You're pregnant?"

"If that's a surprise to you, you haven't been paying attention." 

"Should I be worried about this surprise?" 

"No. It's a good surprise." 

"Hmm … it better be. So how are you feeling?"

"Since I left work two hours ago? Fine. I'm fine."

"Well, you were a little upset earlier."

"No, I'm fine now." 

"Tired?"

"Not too bad." 

"So … is she kicking a lot?" I can just hear the grin his voice. 

"Aha! So that's why you called. To make sure you're not missing out on anything."

"Well …"

"Don't worry, Daddy … she hasn't been kicking much at all. She's probably taking her afternoon nap."

"It's about time for your afternoon nap, too." 

"Probably not today," I tell him glancing at my young guest. Somehow it would seem rude to just sleep all afternoon and leave Susie to her own defenses. Not that she'd have any problems, I'm sure. She seems quite capable of taking care of herself.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Well, I'll let you get back to Susie." 

"Okay. I'll try to keep the baby from kicking too much while you're gone."

"Thanks."

"But hurry home."

"For my surprise."

"Right." 

"I can't wait. See you later. Love you." 

"Love you, too."

"Bye," he says, sounding reluctant to hang up.

"Bye," I say with a sigh, turning off the phone. "That was Carter," I tell Susie. 

"I hope so." She says, giving me a look that I've seen many times before from Susan. 

"Thanks for putting all this stuff away," I say as I move into the kitchen.

"No problem. I told you I'd help." 

"And you're a big help," I tell her as I take over the unpacking of the groceries. We get everything put away, the Jell-O mixed up and in the fridge to set, and then I send Susie to choose a board game for the two of us to play. I join her on the couch, bringing a little snack along for us, of course. Can't let all those cookies go to waste. 

It takes us a while to discover that it was Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the candlestick. In that time we also discover that yes, it really is possible for one little girl and one pregnant woman to eat an entire package of cookies. Okay, so maybe it was the pregnant woman who ate most of the cookies. And now that my belly is full, I need a nap. Who knew that having a baby would make me revert back to acting like a baby?

"You look tired," Susie says. "If you want to take a nap, it's okay. I can do my homework or watch TV or something."

"But wouldn't that be boring?" I ask, stifling a yawn. 

She shrugs. "At least I'm not stuck at after care. Or in the doctors' lounge all day. Thanks for letting me come over." 

"Anytime. We'll have to do it more often."

"Really?"

"Sure. I -- oh!" Suddenly baby Emily has woken up. And she lets me know with a good strong kick. John's not gonna be happy about this. But Susie might enjoy it. "Susie, come over here for a minute." 

Susie gets up from the floor where she was kneeling, putting the game away. She sits down on the couch next to me, and I take her hand and place it on my belly. 

"Is she kicking?" 

"Yeah, she just started today. Well, I'm sure she's been kicking for a while now, but I only really started feeling it today."

"Oh! Hey, I felt that." Susie exclaims as we feel a little thump against our hands. "That's so cool. You're lucky; you get to have a baby." 

"Yeah, I am lucky." I say for the second time today. Hard to imagine that I forget just how lucky I am sometimes … but on days like today, when I felt my baby kicking for the first time, it's easy to remember just how blessed I am. I look down at Susie who's little hand is still resting on my belly. "You like babies, huh?"

"Yeah. Do you think I can baby-sit for Emily after she's born?" Baby-sit? This little kid? Maybe four or five years after Emily is born.

"Hmm … I think you might be a little too young."

"Oh." She looks awfully disappointed. 

"A little too young to watch her all on your own," I amend. "But that doesn't mean you can't help take care of her. When your Aunt Susan baby-sits … or maybe you can come over after school. I'm sure I'd be glad to have the help." 

"Yeah?" She sounds excited now. 

"Yeah, sure. I could have my very own mother's helper. And you could get out of that boring after care once in a while."

"I'm not complaining. It sounds like a great idea to me." 

"You know what sounds like a great idea to me right now?"

"No. What?"

"Making that macaroni and cheese. I'm getting hungry."

"But Abby …" She glances at the empty package of cookies, knowing full well that I did most of the damage. 

"What?" I ask … hey, I have a growing baby inside of me that needs cookies. And cheese-covered pasta. 

"Never mind." 

"Hey, I'm pregnant. I can't help it that I have a … healthy appetite." Susie looks a little skeptical, but chooses not to say anything. 

So we make dinner … well, her dinner, my appetizer. And then I oversee Susie's homework while I start the preparations for the fancier dinner that John and I will share later. I find myself a little disappointed when there's a knock at the door. Judging by the time, it's Susan, here to pick up Susie, and I'm gonna be sad to see her go. It's been fun playing mommy all afternoon. Good practice too, I suppose. 

Susie runs to the door, and once she's made sure it really is Susan and not some lunatic on the other side, she opens it up and lets her aunt in. 

"Hey, Munchkin," Susan greets her, wrapping her up in hug. "How was your afternoon?"

"Good."

"You weren't too hard on Abby, were you?"

"Aunt Susan." The 'duh' voice again. "No. Of course not." 

"She was a perfect angel," I say, stepping out of the kitchen. 

"See? I was a perfect angel." 

"Well, keep being a perfect angel and get all your stuff together so we can get you home. I'm sure you must have homework to do."

"Nope. I already did it. Abby checked it and everything."

"You checked her homework?" Susan asks me, joining me in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I even fed her, too. So I just might get this whole mom thing down in time, after all."

"That's not what I meant, Ab. I just meant that you didn't have to help her with her homework." 

"It's not a problem."

"I really appreciate you having her over today." 

"She's welcome anytime. Apparently I'm not as boring as after care, and I really like having her around, so … By the way, how was the movie?" 

"Fine, I'm sure." 

"But you probably couldn't give me a review if your life depended on it, could you?"

"Probably not."

"Did you make it to dinner?" I ask innocently. 

"_Yes._ And it was really nice. Speaking of dinner … what's going on here?" 

"I'm making a fancy dinner for Carter." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know. Because he's a good guy, and he's put up with a lot from me lately. Because I love him, and I thought he would enjoy it. Also, because Susie told me I should." 

"Oh well, that is as good a reason as any. I guess." 

"Hey, Aunt Susan, guess what?" Susie asks as comes over to join us in the kitchen. "I got to feel Emily kick." 

"She started kicking?" Susan asks in that same excited tone that first John and then Susie used. 

"Yeah, just today." 

"Oh, can I feel?" Of course, she's already stuck her hands on my belly, so what am I supposed to say? "Hey! There was one." 

"I know. I felt it, too," I remind her. 

"Oh yeah. I guess so." 

She and Susie spend a few minutes with their hands on my belly before Susan decides it's time to get Susie home. They happily say good-bye to me, and reluctantly say good-bye to the baby before heading out the door with Susie promising to come back to visit soon. I wave to them as they head down the hall before closing the door and hurrying back inside. After all, I have to get ready for a cozy, romantic dinner for two. My hand falls to my bulging stomach … well, okay … make that a cozy, romantic dinner for … two _and a half_. I smile at the thought and head back out to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on Carter's surprise dinner. He should be home soon, and I've still got a lot to do. 

"C'mon Em," I say as if she has any choice, "Let's go get ready for Daddy's surprise. What do you say?" She, of course, says nothing, but I'll take those few little thumps that I feel to mean that she agrees. 

One surprise romantic dinner for two and a half coming right up. 


End file.
